


he's the earth and heaven (or whatever)

by kingburu



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Comedy, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: “I’m not very good at this,” Jason admits, when his panicked heart starts hammering in his chest.“No, you aren’t,” his aunt agrees.“Good at what?” Nico asks, though he looks hesitant to continue the conversation.“Um…” Jason trails off again, truly at a loss of words. “Courting?”--An Ancient Greece!AU, where Son of Zeus Jason meets Son of Hades Nico, and every (accidental) attempt of courtship that follows.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace
Comments: 28
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very belated birthday present for [ariihen](http://ariihen.tumblr.com)! Go like their art! ENJOY!!!

They first meet in the gardens of Olympus.

Jason is tending to the flowers that have wilted with winter’s breath, pulling out weeds and crunching dead grass between his sandals. He chooses to go in the afternoon before the big meeting, when Aunt Demeter has grown tired of weeping in her flower bed. Jason is in charge of throwing away her crumpled tissues at least once a week.

He's busy plucking tissues out of the branches of a large tree (no doubt from his father’s latest opportunistic scheme) that he doesn’t notice someone else entering Demeter’s Greenhouse.

“So this is what Auntie Demeter’s garden looks like.”

Jason pauses, arms full of enough stale tissues to forge a new sword. As he gazes at the ground, his heart skips a beat.

A very pretty boy meets his gaze, with a warm hue to his pale skin and eyes as dark as flint. His hair is long and mussed, the shade contrasted by the rich ruby jewels and gold trim at his ears. He’s dressed in ebony robes darker than midnight, and the same gold trim streaks across his clavicle.

Jason has seen many colors in Olympus—the neutral grays and browns worn by his eldest sister, Athena. The red-drenched white Ares wears, which echo of the poor souls who’ve incurred his wrath. _These_ robes though—as black as the night and adorned with rich trim, feel foreign to him. Jason is partial to the white robes lain out by his stepmother—while Thalia, the sister closest in age to him, would rather accessorize with her hunting knife like Artemis. He thinks she would appreciate the brooding quality to this boy’s wardrobe.

“Hello,” the boy says politely—which is when Jason realizes he’s been inspecting for far too long. “Are you one of her nymphs?”

That’s enough to make Jason laugh. He’s never been mistaken for a _nymph_ before—they’re far too pretty and delicate in comparison to the callouses on Jason’s fingers. “Oh—no. Just a cheap cleaning service for my aunt.”

“Oh,” the boy says, and the way the blush blooms around his cheeks reminds Jason of roses stretching on the first day of spring. “I don’t come to Olympus very often.”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours,” Jason says—which elicits an arched eyebrow from his new companion. Then—”I totally said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Possibly,” the boy muses—and he doesn’t necessarily look annoyed, he looks wary of Jason’s words. “A son of Apollo, are you?”

Two arrows fired, with neither hitting their target. “A son of Zeus, actually. My name is Jason.”

“Oh,” is all the boy says—and somehow, that’s apparently worse.

Jason grows worried in that millisecond and straightens up. “And—you?”

The boy is hesitant. “Nico.”

Suddenly the flowers swell to life around them. The trees stretch their branches towards the sun with the breath of spring, and an array of lilies, goldenrods, gardenias, and tulips. A brook babbles behind Jason, and the dried brown and yellow grass glows green.

Jason isn’t surprised. Part of the reason why he doesn’t mind cleaning up after his aunt at the end of winter is to see spring come back to life. He reaches over to a nearby bush, where a sweet pink flower reminds him of the delicate hue in the boy’s face.

“Welcome to Olympus, Nico,” Jason says. He’s holding it out to the other boy before he realizes it.

Nico stares at the flower curiously, almost hesitant to take it.

“Go on,” Jason urges. “You’ll never see flowers more beautiful than in Olympus.”

He’s proud to brag about the sister that made them. Nico weighs those words carefully and hesitantly reaches out with nimble fingers. There’s a brief moment where his hand brushes against Jason’s, and the taller demigod almost shivers at how cold Nico’s hands are.

Then the flower wilts the moment it touches Nico’s hands.

“Oh, Hades,” Jason says. He blinks in surprise, and suddenly the pink is dusting over Nico’s face again, embarrassed. But certainly not surprised.

“Ah,” Nico mumbles. “That happens.”

That’s confusing. “But why—?”

“Little Jason,” Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, suddenly appears—and she brushes a hand over Nico’s shoulder as she appears. At first, Jason grows excited to see her—it’s rare for his siblings to stick around Olympus—but Persephone takes the seasons with her as she appears, and spring is her entrance. Her gown is a mix of flower petals, thorns, and skulls—symbols of her power, and symbols of where she reigns. A glint of amusement sparks in her eyes. Jason thinks his big sister Thalia can mimic it all too well. “I see you’ve met my stepson.”

“Stepson?” The realization hits Jason immediately. He stares at the boy in front of him—the olive complexion of his face gleaming with a ghostly quality, and the robes suddenly looking like the liquid darkness of shadows. “Oh.”

The boy before Jason is Nico, son of Hades and prince of the Underworld.

*

Jason has only met one other child of the Underworld. Ares’s son, Frank, is dating a petite girl with bronze skin and gold eyes. At first glance, Hazel isn’t the slightest bit scary. But Jason has always noticed the nervous look on Frank’s face when she reaches for the jewel-encrusted longsword on her hip—or the queasiness in Frank’s eyes when she races chariots.

He catches himself staring across the throne room at Nico of the Underworld, wondering the same thing. Nico doesn’t look delicate like his sister. His arms are taut, lined with scars from battle. He carries a sword with a black and gold-trimmed sheath, like he was sent by the King of the Underworld to guard the Queen—looking so comically small compared to the eight-foot-tall goddess. Jason would guess he could effortlessly rest his chin in that bed of black hair.

His mother used to tell stories of the Underworld when Thalia or he misbehaved—and in turn, Thalia took the tales in stride and often joined Artemis on hunts. Sometimes the monsters looming in the Underworld leaked into the surface, their mother explained. Thalia gladly partook in the sport of slaying beasts. Often more than not, Jason urged to join her—but these days, besotted Thalia has followed her heart to the Amazonian Queen’s little sister.

_He will be attending in place of my husband_ , Persephone explained, and the weight of the words astounds Jason. Ever since birth, he’s accepted he’ll bear the weight of his father’s shadow. Plenty hold it, offering no assistance to their fellow bastard sibling, and search for their own independent glory to make their father proud. Thalia insists she’d rather court a daughter of a war goddess.

But, for the son of the King whose entire realm is filled with shadows, Nico sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s small—much smaller than a god for sure, but maybe that’s why Jason is so intrigued. A demigod son sent in the place of the King of the Underworld at the meeting on this first day of spring.

Persephone sits in the small throne at her mother’s side. Jason is generally on the receiving end of her complaints of how the Underworld has a _much_ bigger throne for her, adorned with thorns and black roses. She sits, exasperated and unheard on the bright day that she’s graced the surface, and Nico sits at her feet, away from the wary glances from two of the three kings. The suspicious look Hera gives Nico makes Jason nervous.

The way Nico arches a brow and pretends not to notice makes Jason smile.

All the while, in contrast to the brooding dark robes and olive skin, Nico holds the pink-colored rose delicately in his fingers—revived in the presence of the Spring Goddess—and spins Jason’s gift with as much gentleness that Persephone has always advised.

Jason wonders if he could convince Persephone to teach him how to grow some flowers like that, too.

*

“Little Nico!” Thalia greets from the meeting—and her strides towards the son of Hades prompts Percy and Jason as well. “The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my chest.”

Nico looks wary of her. There’s an air of regality to his demeanor, as though he truly is the King of Darkness himself. It’s an energy that Jason isn’t familiar with. But he nods his head curtly. “Hi, Thalia. Hi, Percy.”

“Someone let you out of your cage down there?” Percy jokes, though it sounds poorly-timed.

The next smile on Nico’s face is suddenly grimmer, and the goosebumps rise across Jason’s arms. “Sometimes.”

“You guys know each other?” Jason asks, confused at the familiarity between the three. He almost feels like he’s intruding.

Yet, his big sister smiles at him, her expression so reminiscent to the one Queen Persephone carries. “Nico’s sister will occasionally go hunting with us. We’ve known Nico since he was ten.”

Percy grins, nudging Nico in the rib, but judging from the way the son of Hades scrunches his nose, Percy has reached his capacity in jokes today. “How old are you now, your edginess?”

“Fifteen,” Nico says, and he’s careful as he cradles the pink rose between his fingers. It threatens to wilt without Persephone near. The pastel petals suit the pale blitheness of his fingers. Jason’s entranced by the nimbleness of them—and wonders, how they can still look so pretty with such an unyielding sword strapped to his belt. “…do you know each other?”

“What?” Jason asks. He realizes he’s staring again.

Nico arches an eyebrow—and Jason realizes he zoned out. “I asked, how do you know each other?”

“Oh,” is all Jason has to say. He suddenly stands erect when he notices Thalia’s gaze lift to him. “Thalia is my sister.”

“Ah,” Nico says, and he wrinkles his nose, showing the same disdain from earlier. “Right. Son of Zeus.”

“Who isn’t?” Percy remarks, and Thalia hits him. 

“We also share a mother,” Thalia explains—which evidently piques Nico’s interest. Jason knows the occurrence is rare—for a god to romance the same mortal twice. That’s probably the reason why he doesn’t remember their mother well.

“I’ve never seen you before,” Nico admits, completely ignoring the son of Poseidon. For some reason, Jason’s heart skips a beat. The words feel like they hold the same intensity of him saying he’d remember a face like Nico’s. Nico is inspecting him, evidently curious.

“You know our stepmother,” Thalia says. “Hera keeps Jason to herself. Always has.”

Nico looks fascinated by that. Despite the lack of familiarity with Olympus, he evidently notices something askew with Jason’s childhood. “A son of Zeus, favored by Hera.”

“And named after her favorite hero.” Jason smiles awkwardly.

“Big sandals to fill,” Nico notes.

“Tell me about it,” Jason jokes. “Ambassador to Hades.”

Somehow, that strikes a chord with Nico. The edge of his lip curls with mirth, and he arches an eyebrow. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”

“You called me a nymph earlier,” Jason says. “Consider it me returning the compliment.”

There’s a silence amongst them. Nico frowns momentarily, evidently embarrassed—and Jason suddenly has the eyes of both Percy and Thalia on him.

“I said that out loud again, didn’t I?” Jason asks.

“You did,” Percy reassures.

Red burns in Jason’s cheeks, and he clears his throat.

“Nico, darling,” Persephone calls off in the distance. “It’s time to go.”

Luckily—before Jason can embarrass himself any further, Nico answers the call of the Queen of the Underworld.

Nico bows his head politely. “Always a pleasure, Percy. Thalia.” He turns carefully to address Jason, and there’s a momentary pause as they glance at one another. “Jason.”

“Bye, Nico.” Jason’s heart lifts a little as he watches Nico tuck the flower in his belt.

He resists all urge to follow after.

*

“You like him.”

Jason startles when Thalia appears in his bed chambers. He casts a glance from his hammock—the one that binds him closer to the skies—while she stares at him expectantly from the shiny marble floors. “I’m sorry?”

“Nico, the son of Hades,” Thalia says—and at the mention of their uncle, the shadows in the room feel like they’ve grown darker. So does Jason’s face—but the hue of his cheeks is nothing like the evening’s visit in his room. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him at the meeting this afternoon.”

“I—that’s not—” Jason makes a noise, wondering if he could just stay in his hammock. “You’re implying that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of _me,_ you know.”

“You’re far more interesting to pay attention to than Dad,” Thalia insists dismissively. “And I was _very_ intrigued.”

The marble tiles are so pristine that Jason can see a reflection of his own glowing face. “I’ve never seen a demigod of his variety before.”

“That’s because Hera never allows you further than arm’s length. I’m surprised she even lets you take a piss by yourself, little brother.”

Jason’s laugh echoes against the empty walls. He has no doubt that his sister’s disdain for their stepmother will be a tale for generations. “I’ve gotten the hang of wiping myself, at least.”

Thalia’s own laugh is sharper than his own. She cruises the length of his room and settles in his daybed. “So are you going to come down and spill your heart to your big sister?”

Heat tingles in Jason’s cheeks. He descends from his hammock—dodging the countless fashionable pillows that his sister throws in his direction. “There isn’t much to spill. We’ve only met today.”

He catches a pillow before it strikes his face and throws it back at her with a gust of wind. Thalia shouts. “ _Cheater!_ ”

“Foul play,” Jason rebuts, and he lands beside her on the daybed.

“So are you going to court him?” Thalia asks.

_“Court_?” Jason’s voice breaks at the word, and he can’t help but shake his head with disbelief. “You’re gifted the heart of _one girl_ and suddenly you’re an expert in romance?”

“Well, would you like his heart?” Thalia asks pointedly. She grins wolfishly as Jason flushes again. “He’s visiting intermittently through the spring and summer as Persephone’s attendant. You have plenty of chances to woo him.”

“ _Woo_ ,” Jason repeats, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue. He doesn’t have much experience in this area—the closest he’s come to _courting_ anyone is when their stepmother foolishly tried to set him up with Piper. He loves Piper—but there was a severe lack of chemistry between them.

Nico, on the other hand…the conversation-and-a-half that he’s had with the other demigod keeps replaying in his head.

“Admit it,” Thalia teases. “You’re thinking about it.”

Jason thinks his shot was gone long before he ever met Nico of the Underworld. “He doesn’t seem too fond of children of Zeus.”

“I don’t think he’s fond of Olympus in general.”

“But why?”

Thalia shrugs nonchalantly, evidently unbothered by this fact. Jason supposes it makes sense—she always preferred going hunting and sailing the seas over sitting in a stuffy room with colossal giants that argued which part of the world should be in famine at particular times of the year. “A few things. You know the three kings—they don’t have the best repertoire with each other. Dad might have done something stupid.”

Oh, _gods._ There’s a nonzero chance that Dad hasn’t tried to sleep with Nico’s mother. If people based their judgment of him on _that_ though, Jason doesn’t think he’d have _any_ friends.

“And—Apollo might know a little more about it,” Thalia says. “I think he’s interacted a few more times with Nico for one reason or another. I think Nico dated his son.”

At the mention of that, Jason’s heart hiccups in a mild panic. “Dated. Like past tense.”

Thalia looks amused. “Well, I don’t know him well enough to make _that_ assessment, little brother. You may have to ask yourself.”

Jason slumps a little. “What if I don’t like the answer?”

“Well, you already have the answer to one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Thalia latches an arm around his neck and gives his head an affectionate ruffle. Jason almost chokes.

“ _Thalia—”_

“He’s got a thing for blonds,” she jokes.

*

Nico mostly lingers around his stepmother. Jason often sees the other demigod trailing the Queen of the Underworld, silently trailing in her shadows as she entertains Demeter. He’s dutiful in his first few days in Olympus—but then Jason notices as Nico tentatively warms and smiles at Aunt Hestia.

Jason’s in the middle of running errands with Hermes when he spots them near her hearth—and when he comes back at Apollo’s slumber, they’re still talking under the crackling flames. Jason can’t help but admire the way the shadows dance around Nico’s face. They soften gaunt lines into streaks of charcoal, and with each new day, Jason is fascinated by a boy who looks so out of place on Olympus and still holds his head with regality.

Hestia catches him staring. She beckons him over. “Have you met Nico, Jason?”

“Yes,” Jason says, and he turns to meet Nico’s gaze. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nico greets.

And then they stare at each other. Today, Nico is wearing emeralds in his ears. There’s a gold cuff over his left bicep, and Jason is curious of the scars on his arms. The black robes almost look liquid as they fall on his narrow frame—and there’s a sheen to them that Jason’s never seen before in Olympian-quality fabric. He wonders if Athena is familiar with its properties.

“Are you enjoying your stay at Olympus?” Jason asks, when he finds his voice.

Nico shifts between his sandals, and the very movement hides the emeralds in his ears. Jason’s almost disappointed. “There are some things here you won’t find in the Underworld.”

Funny, Jason thinks. He was just thinking about things you couldn’t find in Olympus. He gestures to their aunt. “Aunt Hestia makes the best food. You’ll have to try it.”

Aunt Hestia looks amused. Her eyes are as warm as her hearth, not quite as polished as Jason’s stepmother’s, but somehow more welcoming. Jason has never worried about stepping out of line with her. “Perhaps one of these days, little Jason, when you slow down enough to see me."

Those words make Jason blush sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Aunt Hestia.”

“That’s quite alright, dear boy. My other nephew felt obliged to greet me,” Hestia says, and she gestures with a newfound familiarity in Nico that makes the other demigod look shy. “Not most people stop by these days for my conversation.”

“Nico isn’t like most people,” Jason guesses.

“My father always asks Persephone to bring back an extra basket of your cookies every fall,” Nico explains. “I had to give my compliments to the chef.”

Humble Aunt Hestia’s smile only glows. “I’ll be sure to send you off with more in the near future, sweet Nico.”

Nico seems to perk at this, his own shy smile soft in her wake. Then he turns to Jason. “Olympus isn’t what I expected.”

“Oh?” Jason asks, and his heart skips a beat. In some strange way, he finds pride in the fact that Hestia has left a good impression on this Underworld boy. He can only hope to do the same.

“It’s…” Nico’s eyebrows furrow together. “Nicer.”

“Not all of it is nice,” Jason reassures. “But I hope all of the parts you get to see are nice.”

Nico stare at him with a quiet fascination that makes Jason self-conscious. He tilts his head, and the earrings dangle with him, and Jason wonders if he’s taken a misstep in their conversation.

“You’re certainly not what I imagined from the Underworld,” Jason blurts out, to remedy the situation, and suddenly Nico looks confused. “You’re not…scary looking. Or mean.”

He thinks he hears Aunt Hestia stifle a laugh.

“Not scary and not mean,” Nico echoes, his voice filled with deadpan. “What am I to you, son of Zeus?”

“Well…” Jason tries to find the words in his mind because he’s not quite sure if Nico looks offended or flattered. He’s too busy noticing the way the embers refract in the emeralds in Nico’s ears, and how the light glows against Nico’s olive face. “Um. You’re more handsome than I expected, I guess.”

He's certainly less vicious than the tales Hera would threaten Thalia and he with when they were younger. There’s an intimidating air about him—but nothing more than the air of a guarded boy that wants to protect his stepmother. His family. Maybe that’s why Hestia and Nico get along so well.

Nico looks confused. Then amused. “Are you implying that the Underworld doesn’t have _handsome men_?”

Oh, Hades. He said that out loud, didn’t he? Jason clears his throat. “I can’t really imply there aren’t _any_ handsome men, now can I?”

This time, Nico flushes. His mouth parts for a brief second, and then his lips sew into an ambiguous line.

Hestia coughs.

“I’m not very good at this,” Jason admits, when his panicked heart starts hammering in his chest.

“No, you aren’t,” his aunt agrees.

“Good at what?” Nico asks, though he looks hesitant to continue the conversation.

“Um…” Jason trails off again, truly at a loss of words. “Courting?”

At first, he wonders if the Underworld even _has_ a tradition like that. Persephone often gushes how _she_ was the dowry for the King of the Underworld—no _courting_ needed. But then Nico’s face glows, redder than the rubies from the other day—and the poor boy looks mortified.

“Courting,” Nico repeats.

“Oh—” Yet another thing Jason is stunned leaves his mouth. “Um—forget I said that.”

Nico eyes him suspiciously. He clears his throat, swift to gather to his feet, and nods his head politely at Hestia. “Okay then. I’ll—I’ll be turning in for the night, Aunt Hestia. It was nice talking to you.”

“Trust me, my sweet nephew,” Hestia reassures, and her gaze glints back and forth between them. “The pleasure of this conversation is all mine.”

He walks in the opposite direction of Jason and their aunt, mumbling incoherencies under his breath. Jason thinks he catches Nico stealing a glance at them before disappearing beneath the portico.

“That wasn’t nearly as long as the conversation the two of you had,” Jason observes, his cheeks still red under the heat of the hearth.

“And yet somehow,” Aunt Hestia answers him pitifully, “that was agonizingly slow as I watched.”

*

Jason passes by Aunt Demeter’s greenhouse a few days later—where Persephone often resides when she isn’t joined at the hip with her mother. He catches his goddess sister and her stepson on a splayed picnic blanket sharing tea and a plate of Aunt Hestia’s savory cookies. The sound of his stomach growling announces his presence.

“Jason, darling!” Persephone perks, her eyes lighting up at his presence, and she waves him over.

It’s hard not to miss the way Nico shrinks. Jason would rather not interrupt them—he was enjoying the sight of big sister Persephone exercising her role as the Queen of the Underworld, looking eloquent as she and Nico discussed something out of earshot. She doesn’t stop pouting until he answers her call.

“I’ve been back _weeks_ now, and my babiest brother hasn’t come to greet me?” Persephone asks—and her tone of voice is shrill and different from the image of a regal queen.

Her robes are different from the ones she appeared in on the first day of springs—soft, gentle, and billowy, compared to the garish jewelry and red liquid dress he’s used to. As a queen, she pads her shoulders with black roses. As his sister, she looks more childish. He thinks she carries her free-spirit regardless of wardrobe.

“Sorry, Persephone,” Jason says—and his eyes fall to Nico, who suddenly finds the cookie in his hand far more fascinating. There’s kohl over his eyes today. Jason isn’t familiar with the gemstone in Nico’s cuff. It’s black and smooth, refracting multiple colors even without the help of light. It vaguely reminds him of Piper’s eyes, but…prettier.

He's suddenly aware at how the Queen and Prince of the Underworld can resemble each other so easily, with just the arch of an eyebrow. Jason wonders if he said that out loud.

“Care to sit, Jason?” Persephone asks—and she seems to think nothing of it. She waves a hand. If it bothers Nico, it doesn’t show—and suddenly the Underworldly demigod is scooting to the side and peeling an orange instead.

Their legs brush together in the briefest moment—and Jason watches Nico tense. Red burns in his cheeks, and Jason decides best to lean closer to his sister.

“Has Auntie got you busy running her errands again?” Persephone asks. She wrinkles her nose in distaste and rolls her eyes. _“Mothers._ ”

“Just a few,” Jason assures. “I fed the peacocks today.”

_“Ugh_ ,” Persephone says. “That sounds _terrible._ Staying in Olympus _day in_ and _day out._ How _boring._ ”

Nico stops peeling his orange. “You do it, stepmother.”

“Not by _choice_ ,” she says.

“Didn’t you choose six seeds specifically?” Jason asks—though it isn’t much of a question. He’s been fascinated by the story of his sister’s love since he was a child. At his inquiry, he notices Nico perk with interest.

Persephone sniffs, raising her nose to the air before she sips more tea. “I should’ve eaten _more._ ”

“Please,” Nico says with deadpan, “I think my father’s reputation has suffered enough, stepmother.”

She sniffs again, and Jason thinks he hears her mutter _brat_ under her breath. Then he thinks he sees a ghost of a smile across Nico’s lips.

“She was _fine_ with the marriage at first,” Persephone complains, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “But then it was all _, you never visit enough_! _Is he giving you food? You’re wearing too much black_! A few centuries of not obeying her rules and she decides to badmouth my beloved. Over too much black! How offensive!”

“So offensive,” Nico agrees.

“You have a fantastic wardrobe,” Jason concurs. He notices Nico staring at him again, evidently trying to hide a smile. 

She stares at Jason with equal deadpan, and Jason stifles a laugh.

“I pity the poor fool who courts you one day, my sweet Jason,” she says. “Hopefully Auntie won’t be as unbearable as my mother.”

“I’m sure she has my best interest at heart,” Jason says—having long given up on reasoning with the Queen of the Gods. He’s palpably aware, however, how Nico’s hands freeze at the mention of courting—and how Persephone stares at him with as much derisiveness as she does every year she returns.

“Nico, darling,” Persephone says, “alert Menoetes I have more shit for him to clean.”

Nico coughs, still not reaching Jason’s eye. “Right away, stepmother.”

(He does nothing.)

“What an unusual time to be eating in the garden,” Jason observes, deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction. He notices Nico lax a little, nimble fingers breaking apart the orange instead. Nico hesitates—before breaking off half and giving it to a surprised Jason.

Nico is reluctant to speak. Beneath the stars, there’s a bluish quality to his skin. While most slumbered in the evening, Nico seems to thrive. Finally, he explains, “The dark nights reminds me of home.”

Oh. “There are some beautiful caverns around here,” Jason says. “Some with glowing stones. We could harvest some for more jewelry if you want.”

Nico stares at him again, wary. His eyebrows furrow together, and the kohl looks more prominent around his eyes. They accentuate the hue of his irises. Jason swallows.

“Please,” Persephone bemoans, and she rolls her eyes. “This air is good for you. Nico hardly ever leaves the Underworld anymore. I worry he doesn’t know the difference between a nymph and a satyr most days.”

At the mention of that, Nico’s cheeks flush a darker shade of red. Under his breath, he grumbles, “I found out the difference eventually.”

“Have you found all of the nice things about Olympus yet?” Jason asks. He finds himself hopeful for some reason.

“I’ve found…things,” Nico says, skeptical. He eyes Jason warily and Jason hopes his red face isn’t apparent under the evening sky. 

“What is it that you said the first day, darling? About the gardens?” Persephone asks. “You called the attendants stunning, I believe.”

“What attendants?” Jason asks—and Nico tenses. For all the time he’s hung out in Demeter’s Garden, he’d hardly call the tornado of tissues _stunning._ Most of the nature spirits steered clear out of Demester’s path, lest they wanted to be tied to a chair and spoon-fed milky grains. “I’m usually the only one here during the fall and winter.”

Persephone opens her mouth to speak—then closes it. She turns to Nico, and there’s a muted conversation between stepmother and stepson. It goes on for so long that Jason feels himself grow awkward. There’s a lot of glaring and eyebrow work.

“I’m glad there’s somewhere on Olympus that reminds you of home,” he offers. Jason shifts uncomfortably. He reaches for one of Hestia’s cookies and offers half to the other boy. “I’ve never been away from Olympus myself. I imagine I’d be homesick.”

Nico takes the other half of the cookie slowly. He snorts. “That’s surprising. I was under the impression that your type was busy saving the world.”

“My type?” Jason blinks in confusion.

“Heroes.” Nico tilts his head with slight curiosity when Jason doesn’t immediately answer. “Olympians. Children of Zeus, all trying to become the next Heracles.”

Jason smiles weakly. “I think my path has already strayed far away from becoming the next Heracles.”

Nico looks confused by that but doesn’t comment.

“Auntie has kept Jason close to her nape since the mortal age of two,” Persephone explains, and she rolls her eyes. “Dad named Jason after her favorite hero to appease her—and of course, she said, _if he’s for me, then he’s mine._ Have you ever seen the surface, sweet Jason? All the luscious greenery. I do a _fantastic_ job.”

“Only what you’ve done in the gardens,” Jason says, and he gestures around them.

“So you’ve never been to the surface,” Nico surmises.

“We’re not much different,” Jason insists. “I stay in the heavens. You hide in the shadows.”

Nico arches another eyebrow, evidently unsatisfied with the answer. “I hide by choice.”

Jason shrugs. “Perhaps you can show me the Underworld, sometime. It’s only fair if you’re here in Olympus with my sister.”

Persephone claps her hands with delight. “Splendid! Just say the word, babiest brother, and I’ll enthrall you with some scrumptious food from our royal kitchen!”

Nico flushes at that, evidently not nearly as enticed by the idea. “I don’t know if Jason would last very long in the Underworld, stepmother.”

“Why not?” Jason blinks.

There’s hesitation—and in the darkness, Jason thinks Nico’s olive skin glows just a shade darker. He gestures vaguely at Jason’s firm and clears his throat. “You wouldn’t last long in your…ensemble.”

“My ensemble?” Jason stares down at himself in confusion. His robes are white and pristine, pressed and primped only in the way Hera would approve. Jason has always favored his birth mother—Thalia’s told him he has her pale blond hair and her fair skin. Jason thinks Hera adorns him in the white chiton to steer him away from that image. To make it clear he is _her_ son and resembles _her_ husband.

“The Underworld is cold. Devoid of mortality. You…” Nico coughs awkwardly and blushes. “You’re dressed…sparsely.”

“You’ll nip, babiest brother,” Persephone says, more forward. She pats Jason on the shoulder, and the fabric slides across his clavicle with it. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Adonis survives.”

“If that’s the only thing that worries you, I’ll be sure to dress in layers,” Jason says—and his heart lifts at the way Nico smiles. There’s amusement there.

“That’s a long ways away.” Nico finishes his cookie and leans back into the picnic blanket. “So long as you’re not worried about the Underworld being too _creepy_ or _scary._ ”

Persephone looks offended. “Those are the best parts about the Underworld.”

“If the Underworld is as beautiful as an evening in the gardens, I’m sure I have nothing to worry about,” Jason says, and he tries to get a read on the way that Nico arches his eyebrow. “I look forward to seeing all the nice things below.”

Nico looks amused by those words. “I’m far from finishing seeing the nice things Olympus has to offer, Jason.”

Oh yeah. “That you are,” Jason says, and he tries not to float as he smiles. The spring season is just beginning.

Out of nowhere, Persephone claps her hands together—startling the both of them.

“It’s a date then,” she declares—which leaves both of them confused.

“Um—what’s a date?” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together.

Persephone’s eyes only glimmer with excitement. “Showing Nico everything boring Olympus has to offer, of course! How about first thing in the morning, babiest brother?”

A _date_ , with Nico, the son of Hades. Jason’s throat dries. “I—um. Sure.”

“Nico?” Persephone asks.

Nico glares with exasperation. Though—it’s unclear if it’s directed at his stepmother, or at Jason.

*

Jason is so anxious that he doesn’t get much sleep that night. He’s up bright and early, tidying his bedchambers to rid himself of nerves. Hera drops by once and tuts that his robes are wrinkled. When she leaves, Thalia wrestles him into submission and wrinkles his new robes.

“Did you tell Persephone that I’m courting Nico?” Jason asks, as he inspects his reflection to readjust his headpiece.

Thalia pauses from his daybed—and in the mirror, he can see her arched eyebrow. “ _Are_ you courting Nico?”

Jason flushes. “You told me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually _do_ it, Jaybird,” Thalia muses, and she laughs as the sheen of gold bangles on his wrists are suddenly ruined by his red face. “Do you even know what you’re doing? _Have_ you courted anyone before?”

“Piper doesn’t count,” Jason says—which is more of a declaration than it is a question.

“Piper _absolutely_ does not count,” Thalia echoes. “Does _Persephone_ know you’re courting Nico?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admits. “I, um. I might have accidentally told Nico that I’m courting him.”

She laughs. “There’s no _accidentally_ in trying to romance someone, little brother—you either do or you don’t!”

“So far I have not,” Jason says. “I don’t think he likes me very much. But he hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

Though—maybe eternity as a ghost down below was the equivalent to a commitment the Underworld. The logic feels sound.

“And how did he react?”

“He walked away very quickly.”

Thalia howls with laughter again, reminiscent to the wolves in the night. Jason can’t help but feel more self-conscious. He’s practiced his diplomacy with Athena and sparred with Ares—but this just isn’t an area that he’s familiar with. 

“Dad makes this kind of thing look easy,” he says, and the nervousness is already building in the pit of his stomach.

She clasps a hand on his shoulder sagely and shakes her head. “ _Courting_ and what Dad does are two very different things, little brother. You’re better off with the former.”

“Well, I haven’t made a very good impression so far.” Jason doesn’t think he’s achieved anything better than those first few moments of fascination in their first meeting. Even then—he’d hardly call that the beginning of a love story.

“Well,” Thalia—one of the only siblings Jason has who is in a happily committed relationship. “Let’s alleviate that.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. “Alleviate how?”

Thalia tucks her fingers between the crevasse of the front of Jason’s robes.

“Um—?”

She rips them further open, down Jason’s torso.

He yelps. “I thought you said I was better off not doing what Dad does.” 

“What Dad does mostly involves _this_ —” Thalia points below his golden belt. “I’m just making sure _this_ —” She gestures emphatically. “Helps _this._ ” Then she points to his chest. “Though, feel free to think with your cock if you would like.”

“Please stop gesturing to my cock.” Jason burns brightly and smooths out the front of his robes. “And _talking_ about my cock.”

“Fine. I have no use for it anyway.” She shrugs. “One last touch, though.”

She raises her hands expectantly and Jason bows his head. Thalia gives his hair a quick ruffle.

“Perfect?” he asks, hopeful for her approval.

The corner of her lips etches into a smile.

“ _You_ ,” Thalia corrects.

*

Jason generally rises before the sun. It’s the best way to avoid Apollo’s loud wake-up call—especially since his own chambers are north-facing. He’s early for most things. Early for his sparring matches with his siblings, early for diplomatic meetings with Hera—and probably far too early for his date with Nico.

_Not a date_ , he reminds himself. An outing. Nico agreed to an _outing._ Persephone insisted it was a date. Jason bent to his sister’s will as he usually did. He thinks Nico folded for the same reasons.

Regardless—he stands outside the guest chambers—ready for this outing-not-date with the son of Hades. The day is already warm—Apollo must be nursing a hangover to be driving his chariot so close to the sky. Jason’s there long enough that the humidity makes him sweat. Or—maybe that’s nervous sweat.

Across the hall, Persephone’s door opens. Her hair is already knotted and tied together. Flowers decorate her hair and pad her shoulders. The skirt of her dress reminds Jason of flower petals. The exhausted look on her face betrays the effervescence of her gown.

“I hate it here,” Persephone grumbles. “The sun isn’t _nearly_ as obnoxious in the Underworld.”

“I thought the Underworld was void of sunlight.”

“Exactly.” Persephone raises her head to the door. “Here to gather my stepson?”

“Yes—um—” Jason has no idea why he’s so flustered. “Is he awake yet?”

Persephone arches an eyebrow. “He hardly leaves his room unless I collect him.”

Before Jason can protest, she reaches over his head and gives the door a swift knock.

“Nico, darling,” she calls.

There’s a faint rustle and some mumbling. Then, a quiet—“Stepmother?”

“Jason’s here.” And with that, she turns her back.

Jason’s heart rate spikes. “Wait—”

Persephone turns around.

“Are you not staying?” Jason swallows hard.

The other eyebrow arches. “Well _I’m_ not going out with you. Just go in.”

Jason hesitates for a moment more. Persephone has already announced his presence—so lurking any longer would only make him look weird. Well—weirder than Nico already thinks he is. With one more courteous knock, Jason calls, “Nico?”

“Come in,” the door answers quietly.

The guest room isn’t as spacious as Jason’s own chambers. Hera said the son of a King needed the best view of the heavens. In comparison, the guest room is smaller. More discreet. The curtains are drawn, welcoming sunlight only through opaque fabric. Jason spends a second taking in the room—he’s hardly on this side of his parents’ palace. The quiet calm of it makes every pleasant chirp of the birds and the winds more apparent. Lovelier. Then he notices the silhouette in the bed.

Jason’s throat dries.

“Sorry,” Nico apologizes, his voice a soft tenor. “I fell asleep again.”

He pushes himself into a sitting position. Soft light hits his shoulder blades and slowly creeps across his olive-toned flesh. As he turns, it tapers down his bare chest, down his smooth abs, and paints down his…

Jason swallows, very hard.

“The heat up in Olympus,” Nico mutters—and Jason almost doesn’t notice the way dark bangs are matted to Nico’s face, or how the back of his hair juts out like a mountain range. “It’s sweltering. I can’t sleep most nights.”

Stop staring. He needs to stop staring. He needs to—say something. Jason doesn’t remember how to open his mouth. Words.

“…are you wearing…?”

Jason can’t remember how to hear full sentences, either. Open mouth. Make sounds. “Um…”

He moves to stare at his feet—but his eyes get stuck elsewhere. He stares. Probably too long. He needs to find his words again. And he thinks he notices something—movement, maybe—

Fortunately—Nico remembers how to make words and function—he reaches for a pillow behind him and covers himself. Jason learns in that moment that when Nico blushes, the red travels down his collarbone.

“I’ll be decent in ten minutes,” Nico says, “if you don’t mind waiting outside.”

Words are still hard. Jason gives a tense nod, turns around, and closes the door behind him.

*

When Nico emerges from his bedroom, he’s dressed in his black silk, the chiton stopping just short of mid-thigh. Garnets are in his ears and are the centerpiece of the broach pinned to his chest. There’s no kohl around his eyes this time—and his hair still looks in some sort of disarray, like he was hastily trying to get ready.

Ten minutes is enough for Jason’s words to finally catch up to him. “Um—I sleep bare, too.”

Nico flushes again, the sanguine in his cheeks lovelier than the gemstone shimmering in his ears. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

“Okay.”

*

Their rocky morning doesn’t lull. Jason learns why Nico is partial to trailing his stepmother most days and prefers wandering during the evenings: flowers wilt, like they did during their first meeting. The birds squawk and croon with disdain. Even some of the aurae raise their noses to the son of Hades as Jason and he pass by. As concerned as Jason is, Nico looks at it as nothing more than an annoying inconvenience.

“Hey, fella,” Jason warns—and he places himself between Nico and one of his father’s eagles. “Persephone is back at the palace. Why don’t you see if she brought some yummy worms with her?”

The eagle gives him a wary look, eyes darting in different directions, and then lifts off to find the Goddess of Spring.

“Wow,” Jason says as the eagle flies off.

Nico offers an apologetic sigh. “Animals fear death. They don’t welcome it, either.”

“You must be a pretty powerful demigod to invoke such fear.”

Jason almost doesn’t notice Nico stopping behind him. He thinks a bell around Nico’s neck would suit him. As he turns around, he notices Nico’s eyebrows knit together with confusion.

“Not very many people talk about death and sound _impressed_ , son of Zeus,” Nico says.

Jason shrugs. “Persephone says it’s her favorite part about being a queen.”

“Sure, down in the Underworld,” Nico mutters, and they continue their strides. “Here on Olympus, I stick out like a plague.”

“Plagues would be my brother’s specialty,” Jason jokes. “I think you’re fine, Nico.”

There’s a semblance of something in Nico’s eyes—maybe fascination. It helps to ease them out of this morning’s prettiness— _awkwardness_ —as Jason gestures to all of the things worth seeing in Olympus. They pass the pavilion where the Muses are singing. Some of them dance and gesture in their direction, and Jason watches as Nico makes a face.

“They sing whatever your taste in music is,” Jason explains. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Not particularly,” Nico mumbles—and they leave the Pavilion with haste.

They avoid the vine gardens—Nico doesn’t look enthused by the idea of sucking the life out of the various grapes and strawberries. He also decides against taking Nico to the pegasi stable—that might just be a recipe for disaster. Instead, Jason steers him towards Hephaestus’s forge.

“Nothing metal dies,” Jason reasons—and he thinks Nico looks amused by that fact. Maybe it’s the Underworld equivalent of _water is wet._

He avoids a little fistpump as Nico admires all of the swords hanging on the walls, and various array of hunting knives. Before he gets too enthralled, Nico turns around with curious eyes. “Am I allowed to wander?”

“I wander all the time.” Jason smiles—though Nico only snorts at the comparison. “The cyclops are nice. Feel free to ask them any question.”

So, Nico wanders around the workshop curiously, his own hand tracing the gold-lined hilt of his sword. Sure enough, Hephaestus’s cyclops are happy for the sudden company. And—Nico speaks more words than Jason has heard in the last couple of weeks, asking about the different types of metals the cyclops’s work with, the melting point of each metal, the types of molds used—and so on.

Jason’s smile only gets wider with each question. Then, Nico catches him staring and gets flustered.

“Sorry,” Nico mutters. “My father’s helm was made by the cyclops and the hundred-handed ones. I don’t often get to see the process up close.”

“No way. I love looking at swords.” Jason grins.

“Hades boy already has a sword,” says one of the cyclops kindly. He points to the black hilt at Nico’s hip and pokes the hilt. “Stygian iron. Good craftsmanship. Needs lot of patience.”

“Stygian iron?” Jason echoes, and he stares down at Nico’s hip curiously. The sheath alone is elegantly lined with gold trim. “If you don’t go to forges very often, who made that for you?”

Nico looks shy as he moves, hands still covering his sword. “I made it.”

“ _Really_?”

“Really.” Nico hesitates before unsheathing his sword. Jason is gobsmacked as he looks at it—a pure black blade, void of light even in the hot spring day. The shape is one that Jason isn’t familiar with. Yet—for the boy from the Underworld, the sword moves eloquently between his fingers.

It’s a beautiful touch to Nico’s ensemble—and deadly.

“Careful,” Nico warns. “it’ll suck your soul out.”

Jason laughs. Nico doesn’t.

“Oh,” Jason says. “Cool. How?”

“Patience,” Nico repeats—and the cyclops beams. He falls quiet for a moment, his expression less guarded since his arrival to Olympus and a little more boyish. “And my brother, Zagreus—he dangled the idea in front of my face like a carrot to a horse, then told me it was too dangerous. I like a challenge.”

“And swords,” Jason guesses.

“And swords,” Nico echoes—and the awkwardness feels further away. He looks far more comfortable surrounded by swords than traipsing around the rest of Olympus and getting odd looks.

Jason decides to forgo the rest of their itinerary and patiently stands beside Nico as the other demigod continues inquiring with the rest of Hephaestus’s workers. It’s hard to tell who is more eager—the cyclops showing off their weaponry, or Nico asking how they came up with the idea.

When Apollo slumbers for the night, Jason suggests they grab dinner. Under the evening sky, Nico looks far more comfortable. They retire near Hestia’s hearth, and she tasks Jason to watch the flames while she tends to an errand. There’s a brief pause as Nico looks up to their aunt with suspicious eyes. Jason gulps—but it ends in nothing.

“Your brother, Zagreus,” Jason says. “He’s my nephew, technically.” He pauses. “And my cousin, too.”

“Family trees don’t get any less confusing in death, unfortunately.” Nico snorts. He tears apart his bread and eats it slowly. His mouth purses for a moment. Crumbs stick to the corner of his lip. “I didn’t expect you and my stepmother to be so close. She always spends the last weeks of winter complaining about having to leave for Olympus.”

“Oh,” Jason reassures, “she spends all of spring and summer complaining, too.”

Nico grows quiet. “Still. Most people parrot Auntie Demeter. How my father kidnapped her daughter. With what I’ve learned about Olympus, I didn’t expect anyone to know the real story.”

Jason laughs. “Persephone has been telling me how dark and scary the Underworld is since I was small. She revels in it.”

“Believe me, no one is more aware than me,” Nico mutters—and there’s a fondness to the way he rolls his eyes. “Thank you for today. I’ll have to find the workshop again in the morning.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason says, and he breathes with relief. Then his cheeks burn. “If…you’re still having trouble sleeping, I can make a suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“My chambers. They’re north-facing. I wake up to Boraeas’s winds most mornings. The corridor right outside my room catches Apollo beautifully as he wakes from his slumber. It’s of the nicer things that I like about my home—why are you looking at me like that?”

Nico has been staring at him since mid-bite. His eyebrows are arched in the air, much warier than the boy Jason took on an outing.

“Your bedroom,” Nico reiterates slowly, “is what you find as one of the nicer things about your home?”

“I spend a great deal of time there,” Jason explains—though that answer is evidently worse.

“Do you now?” Nico asks. “Son of Zeus?”

“I—yes?” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together with confusion. “What are you implying?”

Nico shakes his head dismissively, though against the flames, his face is warm.

Aunt Hestia picks that moment to return from her errand. What greets her is the scene of one confused son of Zeus and one wary son of Hades. “Is there a problem, boys?”

Nico rubs his forehead. “No, Auntie Hestia. I should be off to bed now.”

He stands to his feet.

“Good night, Auntie.” Nico fumbles to meet Jason’s glance. “Good night, Son of Zeus.”

“Um,” Jason says. “Good night.”

Both aunt and nephew watch as Nico’s silhouette shrinks in the darkness.

“Courting going well, little Jason?” Hestia muses.

“Oh,” Jason starts, trying his best not to look disappointed. “No—I guess not.”

Though—really, Jason hasn’t the slightest idea of how to start courting.

*

Hazel comes to visit a couple of days after that. Jason’s tried to accompany Nico on other outings—but the son of Hades continues his routine of sleeping through the mornings and going out in the evenings. Jason’s on the opposite schedule.

For Hazel, however, Nico awakens. Next to her boyfriend, Frank, she’s small. The tips of her braids are lined with gold and garnet and she’s dressed in the same black fabric, the hems decorated with more eloquent jewels—even moreso than her brother. Jason’s in charge of bringing them down the corridor where the son of Hades is resting.

“I don’t want to make a show of it,” Nico had explained the night before—the first words intended for Jason in a week. He’d shifted uncomfortably between his feet. “There’s no reason to alarm Olympus that _two_ children of the Underworld and their queen…”

“Nico, she visits all the time for Frank,” Jason reassured him with a smile. “I’ll make sure she’s brought straight to you. After Frank, of course.”

“Right,” Nico said, and he blushed a pretty hue. Jason had forgotten how nice it looked on the other demigod’s face. “I forgot she goes on these outings more than I do.”

It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly makes Hazel different from Nico. Jason thinks she’d be offended like Persephone if he said he didn’t associate her with the Underworld. She certainly wears the robes—pools black, rippling as though they contained the souls of the damned. Maybe it’s the way she smiles—looking young and her age in a way that reminded Jason of Nico in Hephaestus’s workshop. Less regal, more at peace.

“How has my brother enjoyed Olympus?” Hazel asks curiously.

“He finds pockets,” Jason says, and he pauses. “I catch him by Aunt Hestia’s hearth often. And in the evenings in Aunt Demeter’s garden with Persephone.”

“What is the Graceful Jason doing up late in the evenings?” Hazel laughs. Her gold jewelry chime as they walk down the corridors. She was guarded once, when they first met. Much like with her brother, Hazel was surprised by Persephone’s fondness of him.

Frank mimics her laugh. “Has it not made it down to the Underworld? Jason is courting Nico.”

The chimes stop. Hazel halts. “Excuse me?”

Jason trips. “Who told you that?”

“Uh—” Frank looks between the both of them, evidently regretting his choice of words. “The winds carry, your grace.”

Jason groans. Trust the aurae to carry on conversations when no one asked.

“So is it true?” Hazel asks, her voice filled with warning. There’s a chary way she speaks that mirrors her brother eerily well. “You’re courting my brother?”

“Well—yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Jason smooths out one of the creases in his robes. Hera wouldn’t approve of the smudges in his sleeves. “I’m hot and cold with him.”

Hazel held such an excited look to see her brother after almost a month. Now she looks as wary as their first meeting.

“But if he’s truly not interested—I won’t pursue,” Jason says quickly, and his cheeks burn.

That seems to alleviate some of Hazel’s suspicion. In her jewel-toned eyes, there’s even a look of pity. “You might be fighting a losing battle, Jason.”

Oh. “Well, that’s not very uplifting.”

“Hard battles are fought with hard truths,” Frank advises sagely. And although he laughed at the notion of Jason _courting,_ he laces a gentle hand around his girlfriend’s. “Though it never determines whether or not it’s a winning or a losing battle.”

“That’s also not very uplifting,” Jason concludes. “Are my chances better than with Piper?”

Hazel weighs this. “Better than with Piper. Still not very good.”

“Why not?” Jason stops their path.

Hazel looks hesitant. “That’s not my tale to tell, unfortunately, Jason. Just consider yourself warned.”

That, of course, doesn’t alleviate any of Jason’s worry. The way Hazel speaks reminds him so much of how Nico is comfortable one moment and on edge the second. Any mention of _courting_ just doesn’t appeal to the son of Hades—which, maybe should have been Jason’s first sign. Maybe he should apologize for bringing it up. Then maybe they could resume quaint conversations and ease in one another’s company.

Though…Jason tries to stifle his disappointment. Fails. He really fancies the idea of holding hands with a beloved person, the same way Frank holds Hazel. Or Thalia with Reyna. Persephone, with Hades.

When they arrive, Jason hesitates to knock.

“This is his room, right?” Hazel asks.

“He might not be dressed yet,” Jason admits, and his cheeks blister with pink.

Hazel eyes him with the same wryness that’s accompanied Persephone. “Oh, please.”

Much like her stepmother, she raps a hand against the door.

“Nico—it’s—”

The door bursts open. Much like every other day since Nico’s arrival at Olympus, he’s in a delicately draped chiton, with a jewel-encrusted headpiece—but the most striking part about the pretty son of Hades is his pearly-white smile. His eyes light up, sparking like a flame to flint—and he’s closer to that boyish demigod than he is a noble of the Underworld. Jason’s heart skips a beat as he watches it.

Hazel’s golden eyes shimmer, and the two Underworld siblings bury themselves in a hug. Nico pushes hair out of Hazel’s face and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.

“You’re getting a tan,” Hazel teases.

“This happens a lot,” Frank reassures Jason.

They stay in their embrace a moment longer, just grinning. A thousand words are probably passing in one glance—Jason feels that way every time Thalia leaves for Themyscira and he awaits her return—or when the flowers bloom around Jason and he turns around to meet Persephone’s gaze. Part of him is envious that Nico is surrounded by his beloved siblings for more than a few days out of a month. More than a few months out of the year.

“So,” Hazel announces, “will you watch me race?”

The hippodrome always draws some sort of crowd—whether they’re sparring matches, Apollo’s soliloquies, or Dionysus’s wine-drinking contests, the aurae and local spirits always draw near for some sort of competition. Today? Chariot races.

“Are we too close to the ground? Will the horses freak out?” Jason asks—and Nico looks startled by the inquiry.

“I think we’re far enough away,” the other demigod admits. “But—thank you for your concern.”

“No problem.” Jason smiles.

“You’re not a participant?” Nico asks.

Jason laughs awkwardly. “The last time I was in one of these, I almost got stabbed through the heart. Hera smote someone.”

Nico shakes his head in disbelief. “What _does_ Hera let you do?”

“Feed peacocks. Sit in on meetings. Be a proper host for our guests.” Jason stares at the portico below forlornly. “It’s best I don’t participate in these. They get violent. Last time, someone threw a shoe at my head.”

“Oh, gods,” Nico mutters, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Down beneath the portico, Hazel is easy to see. The way she dresses in golden armor makes her a sight to see, with a longsword close to her hip. Jason has to wonder if the Underworld siblings crafted that sword, too. For the smallest rider is the tallest steed—and for the fiercest horse is the most worried looking partner. They haven’t lined up to race yet, and Frank already looks green in the face. Most of the other horses are whinnying in fear—while Arion happily munches on gold bars like they were apples.

_Arion is fearless_ , Hazel explained once. _And mostly hangry._

“You didn’t tell me that Percy was competing.” Nico suddenly sounds more intrigued than before.

Sure enough, the only horse not cowering in fear is the son of Poseidon’s black, winged steed. “Percy always competes.”

“Oh,” Nico says, and his eyes suddenly go from watching his sister to Olympus’s Atlantean guest.

The announcements start. There’s a brief interlude where the centaur happily broadcasts Jason’s presence in his booth, and Jason stands to his feet to give the crowd a friendly wave. Then—the games begin.

Sure enough—they’re far enough away from the stables that the horses aren’t agitated by Nico’s presence. Eight of the ten chariots are still cowering in fear while Hazel bolts on the back of her chariot with her spatha drawn. Frank is behind her, panicked and trying to keep the chariot from tipping. There’s enough time for her to turn around and stick her tongue out at the losing teams.

The crowd erupts into cheers, evoking the same pearly-white grin on Nico’s face.

Nico stands up the moment Percy’s chariot breaks through the crowd of cowering horses.

_“STOP DOING THAT!”_ Jason can practically hear Percy shout. Even from the stands, he can see the mischievous smirk on Percy’s face, Anaklusmos raised in the air. The horses answer his call, pedaling fast after Hazel’s large steed. Crafty Annabeth is at his right, shouting orders in Percy’s ear.

Arion laps them once, colliding through the forgotten chariot racers like exploding through a wall. Annabeth throws a spear between one of Frank and Hazel’s chariot wheels and it spins out of control.

“ _Nice_ ,” Nico says—and it’s hard to root for one side. Jason just cheers anytime one of his friends does something clever.

Once the other horses gather their bearings, it turns into a better race—though no one can beat the momentum drawn by Hazel of the Underworld and Perseus of Atlantis. Frank is quick to de-spear their wheel and they charge straight after Percy and Annabeth. They work like a well-oiled machine, Hazel throwing the reigns over to her boyfriend to draw her sword.

“Careful,” Nico warns—clearly invested in the game. He even bobs when Hazel does—leaning into Jason as his sister dodges Anaklusmos. A tingling shoots up Jason’s spine and Nico flushes. “Um—sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Jason says, and his voice breaks—the scent of figs and citrus wafting into his nostrils.

“Percy,” Nico whispers with familiarity as Percy barks orders to his horses, holds the reigns, and relentlessly waves his sword around. “Think smarter, not harder.”

“You’re really into Percy, aren’t you?” Jason muses. He doesn’t miss the way Nico’s gaze darts to him before shrinking.

“Um. Yeah.”

_Being into Percy_ doesn’t mean much—Jason realizes Nico’s fascination with swords extends here, too. Making them is one thing and seeing them in action is another. Frank is jostled about on top of the chariot, trying desperately to aim his arrows above unsteady ground. Annabeth and Percy switch fluidly, and Percy deflects with a shield. Though—deflecting and deflecting _easily_ are two different concepts. The horses whinny so loud that Jason wonders if Arion and Blackjack are smacktalking, too.

There are three laps. Half the riders are out of commission. Every time Travis and Connor try to throw spears, the apex of their tosses fall meters short of Annabeth, Percy, Frank, and Hazel. They resort to looting from the fallen chariot riders instead. Clarisse erupts in a loud roar for everyone to hear except for the two teams in first and second place—and she settles for third as she bashes some skulls in.

There’s a moment, when Hazel and Percy lap the brash daughter of Ares, that Clarisse swings a mace towards them. Hazel ducks out of the way—and Frank gets impaled in the back of the helmet. Arion huffs, steady on his legs while their chariot spins—and instead of using that to their advantage, Annabeth and Percy exchange looks. Then—Hazel hops to the back of their chariot to swing her longsword towards Frank’s sister, while Annabeth lodges a spear at Clarisse’s wheels.

Clarisse spins out of control—losing momentum from trying to dodge Hazel’s sword and falling off balance due to her sputtering chariot—

“ _GO, HAZEL!”_ Nico shouts, and the vibrato of his voice is so loud next to Jason that the latter jumps. Nico’s not embarrassed this time—there’s a grin splitting across his lips, eyes lit up with absolute pride.

Jason thinks Hazel hears it, too—she jerks her head towards the audience, smiling, and lets out a high-pitched whistle.

Dust explodes like a storm cloud across the field. The audience coughs as dirt fills their lungs. Jason blows a counter gust to breathe cleanly. When the debris settles, Jason realizes Nico has leaned into him again to avoid the brunt of Arion’s trail.

“Thanks,” Nico says—but his eyes are glued to the finish line.

At the very end of the track, the victor is clear. Hazel and Frank throw their fists in the air, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

*

The day is filled with competitions. Jason and Nico watch the charioteers—but no race ever matched the momentum of Hazel and Percy. The crowd cheers every time one of them is announced the victor—and Nico is enraptured by the different array of weapons used across the battlefield.

One race results in a game of keepaway between Clarisse and Percy—where she grabs the banner over his chariot (a lovely turquoise, like Percy’s eyes, and a beautifully inked trident for his father’s domain.) She plays keepaway while Percy tries to recapture his flag.

In another instance, Hazel waves a hand, and all of the stolen metals and gold tucked in Travis and Connor’s robes fill the track instead. They stumble over rickety dirt and go sideways.

For all of his eloquence, Nico is enthralled by every match. There’s no _scary_ air about Nico. Jason thinks he understands a little more—just because this boy _is_ a son of Hades doesn’t mean there is any malice or cruelty in those eyes. They light up like any other person Jason knows, entranced by the charioteers.

At the end of the races, Nico stops short of the stables. He bites his lip. “I’ll wait here.”

“Why? Oh.” Jason grew so used to having Nico at his side that he forgot how much trouble the animals could be. “I’ll tell them to come out.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nico! Jason! Hey!” Percy appears, with a bit of blood caked on his shoulder and a helmet tucked under his arm. He grins. “You guys enjoy the show?”

“Amazing as always.” Jason flashes a grin of his own and fistbumps his good friend. He laughs. “Was riding Chiron to get your banner back part of the plan?”

“Please. What’s a plan?” Percy ribs Jason good-naturedly.

“Don’t start with that,” Annabeth warns, and she appears out of nowhere. Despite glistening with sweat, she slings an arm around her boyfriend, blond curly hair matted to her face. She flashes both of them a smile that mirrors the son of Poseidon far too well. “I’m the only reason he hasn’t died yet.”

“And we’re all better for it,” Jason jests. He smiles at the happy couple.

“Did you enjoy the show, Ambassador?” Percy arches an eyebrow at Nico.

There’s a terseness to the way Nico smiles. It reminds Jason of that first meeting. For all of the cheering and boundless glee that was on Nico’s face as they watched the chariot races, Nico is back to his quiet, reserved self. His eyes are the most reactive as he takes Percy in, and he smiles just as politely as before.

“Percy’s good at improvising,” he says finally, and it’s much tamer than the way he cheered in the stands. “But Annabeth keeps his head screwed on straight.”

“Gee, Nico, you sure know how to pile on the compliments.” Percy laughs, but Nico doesn’t join him.

“Glad to know who’s your favorite, Nico.” Annabeth grins, ribbing her boyfriend again, and there’s a similar sense of familiarity to her voice as there is Percy’s.

Nico’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not until Hazel and Frank appear. She throws her arms around him, grinning.

“Good job beating the Olympians at their own game, sis,” Nico says. “Stepmother would be proud.”

“She’s been known to throw tomatoes at the referee,” Hazel jokes.

“She hit me once,” Jason mutters, and he rubs his forehead. “I don’t think they were ready to harvest yet, either.”

Nico snorts. “That sounds like stepmother.”

“Glad to be of entertainment for your date,” Percy suddenly says—and both Jason and Nico freeze.

“Date?” Jason echoes.

“Things must be going well if Nico agreed to an outing with you,” Annabeth says. She smiles fondly at both of them. “A second one, at that.”

Jason freezes up. He glances very cautiously to Nico, whose arms are still wrapped around his sister. There’s a frown across Nico’s face, nose scrunching with a familiar exasperation. He arches one ebony eyebrow at Jason.

“Oh—this…wasn’t a date,” Jason starts, and he shifts uncomfortably between his toes. “Hazel wanted Nico to watch her race.”

That evokes a look of confusion from the happy couple. Percy blinks. “But it’s all over Olympus that you’re courting Nico.”

“It is?” Jason asks.

“ _All over Olympus_?” Nico repeats.

“Percy,” Hazel warns, “quit while you’re ahead.”

“What—but why?” Percy’s eyebrows knit together with confusion. He turns to Nico. “Jason’s a stellar guy, Nico—you’ll never meet anyone as cool as him.”

“I think Nico can form his own opinion of me, Percy.” Jason flushes red.

As much as he tries to dismiss the subject, Percy insists. “Well—you’re way better for him, especially after W—”

“Nico can speak for himself,” Nico scolds—and Jason jumps at the intensity of his tone. Nico is dark in the face. There’s a brief instance of a scowl across his jaw—then Nico closes his eyes. There’s a breath. Two breaths. Then, “Hazel, let me accompany you back to the Underworld.”

Panic suddenly spikes in Jason’s chest. “But spring isn’t over. And summer has hardly started—”

Nico glowers at him, but it reduces to a tired simmer. There’s a red flush to his cheeks, rising in intensity as though he’s about to say something—but it stops short before it can reach his mouth. “I will be back in the morning, son of Zeus. But it’s been too long since I’ve seen my sister. I’m sure you can agree with that.”

Jason clamps his mouth shut, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“I hope you don’t mind the company, Frank,” Nico says, and he turns to the other happy couple.

“Oh,” Frank says, evidently trying not to look disappointed, “Um—no. Of course not.”

Jason isn’t quite sure what’s in Hazel’s eyes—she looks a little annoyed, though it’s hard to tell if it’s directed at him or her brother.

“Sure, Nico.” She turns to Percy and Annabeth—and the latter sports a cleverer look than her boyfriend. “Another time then, Percy. Annabeth.”

With that—Nico makes a hasty retreat with Hazel and Frank to follow.

Annabeth sighs. “Seaweed Brain…”

“What?” Percy asks, genuinely as confused as Jason feels. “The winds talk!”

Unfortunately—this isn’t the first time Jason has been left by the other demigod. After such a fun day watching races with not the slightest bit of awkward tension between them—Jason thinks he knows what he needs to do.

He bolts right after Nico.

*

“Nico, wait—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Nico retorts. Somehow, as short as he is, he’s able to make long strides. With the high of competition over, the crowds split as two Underworld children pass by.

“But—it’s about—it’s this courting thing,” Jason says—and while the crowds avoid _Nico_ , they certainly drink in every word that comes out of Jason’s mouth.

Nico groans—both Hazel and Frank offering looks of pity. There’s no encouragement here—the son of Hades is evidently _very_ intent on getting off Olympus. The biggest obstacle is Nico’s need for escape, while Jason is still trying to sort out the proper things in his head. Usually, with chariot races, the charioteers had to watch out for other teams. Jason thinks he keeps breaking his own wheels.

“I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Jason says—and he’s suddenly wondering where the skill of being able to walk and talk have gone. He’s usually so good at it, matching witty banter with Percy whenever the son of Poseidon visits—but Nico isn’t a sparring match. “When I said that I was courting you, I—I was so enticed by how pretty you were, I couldn’t help myself.”

Nico stops so abruptly that Frank, Hazel, _and_ Jason almost run into him. He whirls around, confused. There’s red glowing his cheeks. He exclaims, horrified, “You couldn’t _help_ yourself?”

“Dude,” Frank says—and Jason glows pink.

Even at a stop, Jason’s mind doesn’t quite catch up with him. “Um. Yes?”

Hazel sighs with exasperation—and this time, the look is absolutely aimed towards Jason.

“I apologize, if I’ve been forward with you—”

“You have,” Nico interrupts. He looks like he’s trying his best to contain the rest of his fluster—and Jason feels bad for being the cause of it. “This corralling—with _people I don’t know_ watching, and people I _do_ know gossiping about it—I don’t appreciate it.”

The resolve dies on Jason’s tongue. He’s not really sure what to say to that. Truthfully, his life has been a spectacle since Hera decided to take a mortal bastard of her husband’s as her ward. “I’m—I’m sorry, Nico. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come to Olympus again.”

An apology evidently isn’t something that Nico expects. His face burns red, adorning his cheekbones so delicately as though it’s another piece of jewelry hanging against his pale skin. “I just need _space_ , Jason.”

Jason opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. As of late, he hasn’t had much luck using it.

As Nico turns around, Jason jerks forward—then Nico whirls around again. He gestures in front of him—to the edge of the mountainside of Olympus.

“You won’t follow,” Nico says sharply.

Then—to Jason’s surprise, the two children of the Underworld and the son of Ares melt into the evening’s shadow. He gasps—the gesture so unfamiliar to him—and notices three figures at the bottom of the mountain. One of them turns around to stare back up—and they slink into the shadows once again.

Never, in Jason’s life, has he ever left Olympus. Hera has never let him.

But, he swallows hard. Never, has he felt as drawn to a boy as he has Nico of the Underworld.

Jason lets the winds gather at his feet—and then he dives.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She beams at him, knotting little braids around his headpiece. “You looked awfully comfortable next to Jason today, big brother.”
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> “Jason? The golden fleece boy?” Zagreus groans. “He probably smells like goat shit.”
> 
> “Aren’t you dating the cattleman?” Frank asks.
> 
> Zagreus glares at him ever so chillingly. “I’ll have you know that goats and cattle are very different, warbaby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the lovely comments so far! I forgot to mention with the last chapter that this story is loosely inspired by ariihen's oufits for the [Underworld Siblings](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/622926907013562368/underworld-royalty) and the [Grace Siblings](https://ariihen.tumblr.com/post/622997826435268609/olympian-graces-underworld-royalty)! Hopefully that creates a fun image for all of you. Enjoy the chapter!

The surface is crunchier. More mortal-y. Jason’s not sure how to describe it. When he steps over grass, the blades of green compress beneath his sandals instead of springing back to life with Persephone near. There are sounds. Like—a lot of them. Birds chirp in symphonies, and the various volumes lets Jason understand the different octaves that they offer.

Things crawl over his toes. Earth has a smell to it— a thickness to the dirt that the hippodrome lacked. Even the winds hold a scent different than in the high altitude, the zephyrs billowing against Jason’s robes and rustling the trees.

It’s all painstakingly beautiful and overstimulating that Jason almost forgets what he’s doing.

The trail of wilting grass reminds Jason why he’s there. Funny—Jason can’t recall even one instance where Hazel has suffered this problem. She’s more striking and scarier looking adorned in gold and jewels—if the way she caused Connor and Travis to veer off field from gesturing at their loot is anything to go by.

Nico though—is a pure soul of the Underworld. Jason gets so lost that in that thought that he momentarily forgets he’s trying to find Nico, too.

(Maybe surface air just makes you forgetful.)

Mount Olympus gets further and further away as Jason follows the trail, bent on—

Jason pauses.

Well, he’s not sure _bent on_ what. He just knows that seeing the way Nico’s face morph with frustration worries him. Jason has made friends with other demigods in the past—always the ones that accompanied their parents when the Gods had their meetings. He wouldn’t have met Annabeth and Percy otherwise.

He's always overlooked their confusion. Jason has been by Hera’s side since the age of two and—now, he just jumped off Olympus for a boy. She’ll probably kill him. At the very least—lecture him into oblivion. But—Jason’s never felt so compelled to sort things out before because of his blundering mess. And granted, Jason hasn’t been given a lot of opportunities to be a blundering mess before. Not even with Piper.

“Okay, Jason,” he says aloud—because the bugs are still chirping too loud, and the winds are still chuckling in his ears, and the dirt is just a little cold. “How would your sister handle this?”

Artemis would advise he swear off men—so, probably not that.

Athena would tell him to weigh his options—and he’s done just that. Jason wants to clear the air with Nico.

Hebe would tell him to stop growing up so fast. Though—she did marry.

Persephone pursued.

Thalia—also pursued. And ruffled his clothes.

Jason… _wants_ to pursue, he just thinks Nico hasn’t been as receptive at the idea of a chase.

He has a headache—whether it be from the unending chirping, the blinking starlight, the gaggling winds—or just his own irresolute heart for Nico.

A sound splits through the maelstrom of Jason’s mind—a sweet, honey tenor from afar. Jason stares for a moment—and sprints.

The surface hilltops aren’t as smooth as the palace halls—so Jason stumbles. He thinks he’d be better off flying to find the two children of the Underworld, but is afraid of losing the wilted pattern in the grass. Jason stops just short at the apex of a hilltop, noticing three unescapable figures in the distance.

Nico and Hazel are singing in front of the cavern.

A sweet, divine harmony carries the winds westward, with Zephyrus’s intent clear.

Jason doesn’t even hear the words—maybe it’s a hymn to Hades?—he’s fixated on how this son of Hades could look even more handsome, and master yet something else that puts Olympus to shame. Nico has a hand on his diaphragm, lacing together beautiful sounds that could probably make a whole garden bloom.

The pile of rocks part. A cavern opens, moved by the songs of the two Children of the Underworld. Frank is there—but Jason hardly notices.

Close to the earth, to the path beneath, Nico and Hazel reign.

They leave through the cavern before Jason can find the will to move. He doesn’t realize the cavern is closing until the rock columns begin to move. “Wait—Nico—”

_SLAM_

The tomb clatters shut. Jason stares at the slab of rocks curiously. He opens his mouth to sing a song—but there’s no way he’ll be able to capture the same vibrato as the Underworld siblings. Jason’s a diplomat—sure. A singer, he’s not.

“Only a god could match pipes so lovely,” Jason murmurs, frustrated.

And an idea strikes him.

Maybe not a sister.

Maybe a brother?

*

There can’t possibly be anything else tonight to make Nico’s headache worse.

“Oh—so you’re back already.” Brother Zagreus is in his face immediately, his expression coy and—far into Nico’s face for his pleasure. “I told you. Mother was right. Olympus isn’t worth the trouble of eternity. How long were you gone? A year? Two years?”

“A month,” Nico grumbles.

Zagreus squints—then looks to Frank. “You. How long is a month?”

“Um. A small fraction of a year?” Frank swallows. “Long enough for wine to ferment.”

“Hah! You didn’t even stay long enough for the wine!” Zagreus pauses—then narrows a gaze. “I asked you to bring some back. That’s where Sir D keeps the _good_ wine.”

“I’m going _back_ ,” Nico insists, and he rubs his temples.

“ _Why_ would you go back?” Zagreus makes a face. “Olympus is dreadful.”

“Persephone will throw a fit if he’s not there in the morning,” Hazel offers sympathetically—and she pats her brother on the arm. “I will say this tan looks good on you, big brother. You look like a whole new demigod.”

“ _I’ll_ be the judge of that,” Zagreus sniffs, and he’s in Nico’s face again. “Same pouty cherub face. Unfortunately, you’re still you.”

“I’d give anything not to be _me_ right now,” Nico mutters, and he rubs his eyes with a sigh.

“Really?” Zagreus perks. “Done—I can make sure you grow more leg hair in your next life—maybe handsome stubble—”

“Zag,” Hazel warns, and she bats his hand away.

“Spoilsport,” Zagreus mutters. “We were bonding.”

“Stepmother asked for my company for the entire season,” Nico says, and he pretends to ignore the way Zagreus is inspecting his shins. “I intend to keep my end of the bargain, even if she isn’t keeping hers.”

She’d stop barging into his room and dragging him places against his will, if he accompanied her to Olympus. A month ago, part of Nico had been honored. They didn’t often see eye-to-eye, so he was surprised to hear that Persephone yearned for his company.

And only weeks later, Nico is back to wishing his stepmother would step meddling in his life.

“Well—was everything I said right?” Zagreus asks, slithering around him for the first time in months. It’s reminiscent to the hug Nico gave his sister this morning—the first touch between siblings in what feels like ages. “The mountain is bright and obnoxious. The winds are annoying. And their _awful_ clothing. Don’t even get me started on their taste in music! It’s the surface, but thrice as bad.”

Frank looks hurt. “I _like_ the music in Olympus.”

Zagreus rolls his eyes. “Well we can’t all be enthralled by the same forty songs the Muses, you crying warbaby. They all sound the same! There’s no _mystery_ to them.”

Hazel pats Frank’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sometimes predictability is a good thing, Frank.”

“Olympus had nice things,” Nico admits. Thinking about the _nice_ things alleviates part of his headache. Nico enjoyed Hephaestus’s Workshop a lot. He liked to see how the gardens in Olympus differed from their stepmother’s garden below. The fruit was sweeter, rather than citric—though Nico admits they don’t quite encapsulate his stepmother’s charm.

He expected more adversity from the court of Olympus—but that was a given. Poseidon tended to his own kingdom. Zeus tended to his whores. Apollo charioted the sun, Artemis led her huntresses. Athena seemed intrigued by the policies enacted by Hades down in the Underworld, Ares lost interest when he realized Nico wasn’t giving into primal urges and fighting.

Aunt Hestia was flattered to be spoken to. The cyclops were nice. The hippodrome—though a little strange, was pleasant. Nico is used to the screams in the Fields of Punishment, but nothing prepared for him for the elation of a crowd cheering for his sister.

Nothing prepared him for Jason, either.

Nico sighs.

(Naturally, he avoided Aphrodite.)

“Good. You’re dreading going back,” Zagreus concludes. “Keep that feeling for the rest of spring. It should fuel you.”

“Do you _want_ me to stay down here?”

“You’re welcome to do whatever you want,” Zagreus says, and he raises his nose to the air. “Just know every choice you make will determine your fate in the Underworld.”

“My current fate involves watching my brother blather on insufferably,” Nico mutters.

“Ah,” Hazel says. “Punishment then.”

Frank laughs first. It took him a couple of months to get there—but he’s reassured by Nico’s smirk and Hazel’s grin.

Zagreus rolls his eyes. “Laugh now—but just remember I didn’t meddle in your _last_ two affairs—”

“And I’m still alive,” Nico mutters.

“—and you’re far more dissatisfied without my earnest words. _Let mortals make their own choices_ , Dad insists. Look at this cherub’s face, sissy.” Zagreus snatches one of Nico’s cheeks. “When’s the last time you saw a smile?”

Hazel gives Nico a look that echoes of their stepmother. It’s the same look she gave when Nico made a hasty retreat from the hippodrome. “As a matter of fact, today.”

“Yes,” Nico says. “Because you came to visit.” His expression softens gratefully. “Thank you for that. I was getting antsy.”

She beams at him, knotting little braids around his headpiece. “You looked awfully comfortable next to Jason today, big brother.”

Ugh.

“ _Jason_? The golden fleece boy?” Zagreus groans. “He probably smells like goat shit.”

“Aren’t you dating the cattleman?” Frank asks.

Zagreus glares at him ever so chillingly. “I’ll have you know that goats and cattle are _very different_ , warbaby.”

Frank looks at both Hazel and Nico, evidently trying to sort out whether or not to laugh again. Hazel shakes her head and makes a deathly gesture with her index finger and neck.

“How has Jason been taking care of you?” Hazel asks—and now that they’re on the subject, Nico knows she’ll persist until he folds.

He reddens at her question. “He’s not _taking care_ of me.”

Hazel makes a face. “Jason takes lovely care of me every time I come to visit Frank.”

“The goat boy,” Zagreus says with disdain. “I suppose that meets your repertoire. A boy with a boat and a handsome face.”

“Not the goat boy,” Nico grumbles. “A son of Zeus.”

“ _Zeus_?” Zagreus asks, appalled. “The _worst_.”

“Zag, he’s your grandfather.”

“He can be both,” Zagreus insists. “What makes this _Jason_ so spectacular? Is he blond? How boring—you need better standards.”

“I _know_ ,” Nico mutters.

“Stop listening to him,” Hazel chides, and she taps a hand with irritation against Zagreus. “Jason is nice. I didn’t believe he’d be so humble—son of Zeus and all of that—but he’s thoughtful. He’s not around people his own age very often.”

“Neither is the cherub and he’s better for that,” Zagreus remarks.

“By choice,” Nico grumbles.

Hazel rolls her eyes. “I’ll have you know that Jason told me he would stop pursuing you if you just _told him to_. I recall you told him you wanted _space._ Not a no.”

Nico’s cheeks burn. Truthfully—the words have escaped him every time he’s tried. He’s not used to being at the receiving end of courtship. Watching Percy wave Anusklusmos and hold a smile towards Annabeth today was proof of that. He could be as elated as he wanted to be in a hero’s presence—but Nico will always just be one stop on a dangerous quest for those types.

And—there’s something about the way Jason persisted to find something in Olympus that didn’t freak out at his lineage that Nico found charming. Jason wanted to find things that interested _him._

It’s so very unlike Will—but Nico used to find relief that Will was very unlike Percy.

“I just don’t want to hurt again,” Nico mumbles softly, and his chest aches with the words.

“Then don’t date an Olympian,” Zagreus concludes. “Plain and simple. Find someone down here, like Mom did.”

“Yes, let’s just fight over the cattleman,” Nico mutters. “Part of me is hoping I’m still asleep in my room. That all of this is a dream.”

“Is he even attractive?” Zagreus wrinkles his nose. “Or just obnoxious?”

“He’s very handsome,” Nico reassures—and the thought flutters from his mouth before he can help himself. He thinks back to their first meeting in the gardens. So far Olympus had been bright and shiny and obnoxious—all of the words that made Zagreus warned. Nico had stumbled into the garden for a moment’s peace—hopeful that there was something in Olympus that felt more like _home_ and less like a foreign city.

Maybe Zagreus was right. Nico did have a type—loyal and heroic—and a preference for blonds. Jason cradled flowers so delicately between his large hands that Nico was confident in his assessment. As much as Zagreus voiced his disdain for Olympians, Nico dissected every book and asked every tale. One of the heroes in Elysium just told him nymphs were kind and _stunning_ creatures. How was he supposed to know they were primarily women, too?

He's very aware that Hazel is giving him a far too knowing look.

“Home already?”

Nico startles at his father—the King of the Underworld in a thin layer of black silk robes and bedridden hair. Dark rings accessorize his eyes, and socks warm his feet against the cold palace floors. Hades’s eyes rise with a lulled excitement.

“Is my wife home?” he asks.

“I—no, Father.” Nico almost loses his voice. It’s not his father that distracts him—but Jaso— _Adonis_ , scantily clad beside the King of the Underworld.

“Oh,” Hades says solemnly. “Will you be staying long?”

“For the night, Father,” Nico says, and his eyes dart between the King of the Dead and the God of Beauty and Desire, another migraine growing between his temples.

Adonis smiles at him smugly—with Jason’s golden blond hair, and Jason’s sun-kissed skin. The curve of his jaw is as perfect as it is on the real Jason, and the symmetry of his lips is marred by only one flaw.

And—gods, Adonis mimics Jason’s wingspan perfectly. Nico stares far longer than he intends.

“Would you like to know how he got the scar?” Adonis asks curiously.

Nico’s vaguely aware that Hazel and Frank are staring between them, confused. He’s blatantly aware that he’s staring.

“He mistook a dagger for food,” Adonis says peculiarly. “I believe that’s why he was kept so close to Hera’s breast as a baby.”

Oh, Hades. That’s adorable.

“What’s this about a scar?” Hades rouses.

“Nothing, Father,” Nico says.

“A boy from Olympus is courting the cherub,” Zagreus explains—and Nico holds his face in his hands. “We’re telling him all of the cons.”

“Would you like my argument?” Adonis asks—and he makes a gesture. Mainly to himself.

Hades stares blearily at the scantily clad god—then blankly at Nico. He mimics a look Nico’s held ever since being toted to Olympus—where the palace is too warm and the heat is unbearable compared to the void of the Underworld. Nico doesn’t even want to get started on the indecent scene of Jason walking in on him—that was mortifying.

(And…shamefully a pleasant sight. Nico probably stared far too long, admiring what ripples of Jason’s abs he could see—and how taut those magnificent legs were. At that thought, Nico resists the urge to stare at Adonis again—who resembles Jason perfectly.)

Though—most of Hades‘s exhaustion looks like it’s from loneliness. He looks like he’s trying to piece together the front and end of a horse costume for a play, but animals did not fare well with death.

“A friend of ours—he’s courting Nico,” Hazel explains, then she tugs at one of Nico’s braids. “And he would _stop_ , if you just told him to, big brother.”

“Since when do Olympians stop?” Zagreus grumbles. “A persistent bunch. Just look at Mother.”

“Who is this?” Hades asks.

“Jason,” Hazel says. “Not the goat one. He’s a son of Zeus.”

“Oh,” Hades says. “Would you like my advice?”

Nico pauses. He lifts his head with hesitation to his tired father. It’s not often his father offers his counsel—let alone _love_ advice.

“Let it happen,” Hades concludes.

They all stare at him.

“Let it happen,” Nico echoes, deadpan.

Hades nods—and despite the ridiculousness of his words, he holds the same demeanor as he holds in court, hands crossed over his nightgown. “My brother’s children—they’ll continue like a storm, regardless of your answer. Just look at your stepmother.”

Nico stares, aghast. “A son of Zeus, your least favorite brother, is trying to coerce me into his chambers and your sound advice is to _let it happen._ ”

“I’ve learned giving into his tantrums usually makes him go away,” Hades says—and Nico is nauseous at the thought of what his father is doing with the King of Insert Cock Everywhere. “The same applies to your stepmother.”

“Stepmother stayed,” Hazel points out.

“Yes, and I’m better for it,” Hades says, which just confuses them more. “You also let it happen, darling Hazel.”

They all stare at him once more.

“This one.” Hades gestures to Frank. “I like him.”

Frank makes a noise. “You _like_ me?”

“You were so hesitant,” Hades continues, gesturing to Hazel, as though his explanation was punctuated with a comma rather than a poignant end. “Now you’re happy.”

Nico stares at his father with dismay. “I’m confused. Are you hoping that I land a new boyfriend or are you saying he’ll go away after that?”

Hades shrugs. “Whichever one suits your fancy more, my son.”

“If you don’t want to get hurt again then you better be quick to say _no_ , Nico,” Hazel warns. “Jason listens. He’s thoughtful.” 

It’s a strange warning to make. Nico’s last efforts of courtship were ignored because others didn’t listen—it’s why he kept his compliments so tame at the hippodrome. Everything about the Underworld was far too gloomy and cold for Will, the son of the sun who would rather collect herbs and _only_ do the things that interested himself. There was a _reason_ the sun couldn’t be found in the dark of the evening. Nico’s wary to ever date a son of Apollo again. Anyone in Olympus.

But doubt tugs in his chest. Jason—who’s never even stepped foot on the surface was eager at the thought of visiting the Underworld. _This_ part of Nico’s life.

“Or, you could let it happen for curiosity’s sake.” Jas-Adonis tugs at the scantily clad robes draped around his hips and stares at the bare space. “My—what a beautiful specimen.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Nico chides, and his face glows red. “Your smile is all wrong. Jason’s is far kinder. He isn’t nearly that smug.”

“Please. An Olympian has to be smug or stupid to try and court an Underworldly child.” Zagreus pinches one of his cheeks viciously, and Nico protests all urge to bite his brother’s thumb. It hasn’t led to good things in the past.

Frank looks at Hazel worriedly.

“I love how confident you’ve grown as a son of Ares, Frank,” Hazel says cryptically, and she reaches over to press a kiss on his face.

And still, Adonis taunts Nico. He stares curiously at his own loins, and Nico groans.

“You wouldn’t change a thing about this boy, I see,” Adonis notes. “And you haven’t even seen what all other assets he has to offer.”

Nico scowls. He opens his mouth to speak—and Zagreus claps a hand over it.

“Quiet,” his brother orders. “Does anyone else hear singing?”

*

Apollo is a brother that Jason aspires to be.

Handsome, charismatic, and able to jovially gather the attention of a whole city by presenting himself alone. Granted—charioting the sun makes it _easy_ for people to notice you—but it’s a reputable gesture. Apollo has claims to medicine, to the sun, to oracles…and so on.

Jason is the champion to Hera—the only demigod to ever avoid her wrath. He…has very little to a title. Not that it matters.

Right now—

“So you traipse the surface for the first time in your mortal life—without telling Hera—and the first thing you want me to do is sing to a pile of rocks so you can court a boy.”

—Apollo is also the god of music, compared to the minimal things that Jason has latched to the end of his own name.

“You really are my little brother,” Apollo coos proudly.

“I—not necessarily court,” Jason sputters, and his cheeks grow with heat. “I need to explain myself. I haven’t been true in my advances.”

“Sometimes you don’t _need_ to be true in your advances,” Apollo reassures. “Sprinkling a few lies and a jaunty tune works better. A piece of advice for you, babiest brother—sell yourself big, or go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Jason blurts out. “Not yet.”

Apollo waves a hand over his lyre, a stunning tune spilling with the plucked strings. Jason thinks a pebble might’ve trembled. “Your _passion_! I love this for you. What do you want me to sing?”

“Um—I don’t know.” Truthfully—Jason hadn’t thought that far. He figured Apollo would be near, chasing a pretty boy or girl or frolicking through the woods after business hours like his brother normally did. (And of course, Jason found his brother singing a ballad in a forest—or maybe to the trees. He never knows, these days.) Jason thinks about the melody Hazel and Nico sang. “The most beautiful thing you can imagine. Maybe a hymn to Hades?”

Apollo deflates. “To _Uncle_? Why not a hymn to me?”

“Well…we’re at a gate to the Underworld. I feel like something to flatter Uncle Hades is what’s needed.”

Apollo offers a petty sigh, a solemn minor chord erupting from his fingers. “But how often do you think these rocks hear the same song? Sometimes you need to be _creative_.”

“Can we be creative and flattering?” Jason asks hopefully.

“Are you trying to _sell yourself out_?” Apollo asks, and he starts playing another melody on his lyre, offended in a way that reminds Jason of Persephone—with his brother’s own _creative_ spin to it, of course. “Every song should be unique and different. Uncle Hades has what—two hymns to his name?”

“The muses sing the same forty songs,” Jason points out.

“Well they’re all _my_ songs, so they’re creative and unique,” Apollo says. “You’re trying to flatter a boy, not sleep with Uncle. What about a song for him? A ballad?”

He strums another pretty chord, and Jason debates this. Nico didn’t like the crowd that drew near them on Olympus, sure—but a song, just for Nico…“I don’t know how to write a ballad.”

“Say no more,” Apollo says, and he strums his lyre again. “Consider this. _I’ve just met you. Mayhaps this is crazy—”_

“Erato already sung that.” Jason scrunches his face. “And we’ve known each other a month now.”

“You’re ruining my creative process.” Apollo huffs.

“ _What are you doing here_?”

Jason startles at the voice. He whirls around—and a mortified Nico meets his gaze at the edge of the tomb. Behind him are Hazel and Frank—and a new person that Jason has never met before. His skin tingles for some reason, like meeting first life. There’s a way this person—this _god_ —looks at him, expression filled with disdain and annoyance that reminds Jason of Persephone every time Olympus is mentioned.

“Oh, _Nico_!” Apollo strums his lyre again, enthusiastic. “You’re courting _Nico_?”

“Oh, look,” says the Underworldly god with deadpan. “Bright, shiny, and obnoxious. It’s like a little piece of Mount Olympus has been cursed at our door.”

Hazel and Frank look confused. Nico looks somewhere between stunned and confused—which is much how Jason is feeling.

“Lord Apollo,” Nico starts with a wariness. “Always a pleasure.”

“Of course it is,” Apollo says, and he smiles with an ease that Jason envies. “So you’ve turned from my son and you’re going for my brother. Aiming for the stars since you can’t get the sun?”

“I’ve lost interest already,” says the Underworldly god. “Come, warbaby. Come, sissy.”

Frank perks at the first name, Hazel at the second. She gives Nico a stern look that Jason didn’t have the privilege to see earlier—and the threesome retreat back into the cave.

“Um, Nico—I’m sorry for following you, but I—” Jason turns his attention back to the son of Hades—and he’s surprised by the alarmed look on Nico’s face.

“What are you doing on Earth?” Nico asks—and somehow that’s more of a concern than Jason wandering to the gate of the Underworld. Shockingly so—there’s an ample amount of fretfulness drenching Nico’s tone.

“I—” Jason’s brain is a frenzy. He thinks the worry may be warranted—with the overwhelmingly cold soil between his toes, the drafty zephyrs, the nightly crickets…all of the sounds and waves just mix with maelstrom in his mind. “I came down from the heavens for you.”

He waits, untrusting of what other words may slip out of his mouth. Nico looks at him as though he’s grown a second head.

“You came down from the heavens,” Nico says slowly. “For me.”

“Yes,” Jason says with reprieve.

“ _Why on earth_ ,” Nico asks, “would you come _down_?”

“To court you, of course,” Apollo chimes in—and they both stare at the god. He strums a pretty tune on his lyre that Jason is tempted to throw southward.

“Apollo,” Jason says, “you can go now.”

Apollo makes a face. “I didn’t even get to my solo.”

“I encourage you to take one now, my lord,” Nico says.

The Sun God makes a resolute face, the corner of his lips curling into a pleasant smile. “I can _certainly_ be yours for the night if that’s what you like, sweet cherub. The three of us—”

“My apologies, Lord Apollo,” Nico says—and he seethes between his polite tone. “I’ll have to decline your offer once again.”

_Once again?_ Jason wonders. He looks between the two of them and the tone of familiarity between the pair. Nico holds nothing but exasperation for Jason’s favorite brother.

“What a shame,” Apollo says, and he strums a solemn cord. “You know, I’ll never understand why you and Will didn’t work out. The moon yearns to be with the sun, always.”

“The moon is our sister,” Jason points out, and he disappointedly reminds him, “and she said her huntresses are girls only.”

Apollo waves his hand dismissively. “We have to work on your poetics, Jason—your idea of romance is still far too innocent.”

“Do continue with what your idea of what _romance_ should be like, Lord Apollo,” Nico says tiredly. He looks like he’s doing all not to strangle the god. “I didn’t get a good idea of what to expect the first time.”

“I dunno, sweet cherub, Will tells me you had untoward feelings about all the ways he courted you—which makes no sense because my advice has always been sound.” Apollo strums is lyre again and strokes his chin. His blue eyes—the hue that connects Jason to his big brother—sparkle for a moment. “Then again, why not? I always appreciate a good encore. _Although I’ve just met you, mayhaps this is crazy—”_

“Apollo,” Jason interrupts—and with the sound of the lyre so penchant in his ears he feels his head spinning a little. He turns his head to Nico instead. “Nico, I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?!” Apollo interjects, and he plucks yet another sorrowful chord. “You two broke up already? Sweet graceful babiest brother, I have a whole _playlist_ dedicated to that!”

The way Nico glowers, Jason thinks apologizing might have made things worse.

“This won’t be the first time you’ve heard it, Nico,” Apollo says in a reassuring tone that is not at all reassuring. “You must be a big fan of my work, sweet cherub. I feel as though you’re _always_ listening to these songs. I don’t know why you insist—but if you _truly_ want me to sing about your nasty break up again— _”_

He strums a harsh chord.

“ _Get out! Leave!_ _Right now_!” Apollo sobs dramatically over his lyre. “ _It’s the end of you and me!_ Does that ring any bells?”

Nico doesn’t say a word. He’s shaking with a quiet fury, and Jason yelps as soft grass turns into tiny daggers beneath his toes. It’s hard to focus on _much_ right now—but the nasty anger emanating from the other demigod is hard to miss.

And from all of the things Jason’s (questionably) favorite brother has said, Jason has the realization that he’s _really_ not good at this.

In their first meeting, Nico voiced disdain at the possibility that Jason was a son of Apollo. It only got worse when Jason corrected him.

“Apollo,” Jason says, “Hyacinthus wanted me to tell you that he was thinking of you.”

Apollo’s fingers stop short of his lyre once again—and he turns his gaze. “He is?”

“He said your ballad is like a worm that crawled up his ear,” Jason continues, and he taps at his lobe. “He hopes you’ll visit again.”

“Ooh—fantastic!” A grin splits across Apollo’s face—so blinding that Jason thinks he sees the second coming of the sun. Someone tonight is about to, from the sounds of it. Apollo turns swiftly in the direction of the forest—and pauses. “Wasn’t I helping you with something?”

“You already did,” Jason says, and he smiles softly.

“Of course I did!” Apollo declares. He turns to Nico. “Be fragile with my little brother, Nico.”

He kisses both of Jason’s cheeks before sprinting off on his own direction.

They’re left in silence.

“Was that Zagreus?” Jason asks.

“ _Leave_ ,” Nico snaps angrily. “Get out. Right now.”

Jason winces at the intensity of the words. He gets the feeling that Nico isn’t quoting the God of Music. “Nico—I’m sorry—I had no idea what kind of tension existed between you and my brother.”

“Because you don’t _know_ me, Jason,” Nico snaps, and he miserably pinches the space between his eyebrows. “I keep hearing how you’re much _kinder_ and _sweeter_ than the other Olympians, and yet here you are, after I specifically told you not to _follow._ If you’re to court me, do you think I want a man who doesn’t _listen_ to my feelings?”

Jason wilts more than Demeter’s Greenhouse when her daughter leaves for the winter. “I know—I’m sorry, Nico. I came from the heavens hoping to apologize. I didn’t mean to make you a spectacle.”

A quiet rage is in Nico’s eyes, but the son of Hades clearly is trying his best to keep it from reaching his mouth. His long eyelashes dip as his eyes crease shut—and the grass is stripped of the last of its hue—before the process reverses.

“Let’s get you back to Olympus,” Nico says finally, his tone even.

Jason stares with confusion. “But—I wasn’t planning—”

“You planned nothing,” Nico says sharply—but the intensity of his tone falters. The flint-colored eyes are etched with a somber, irreversible expression. “You’re important to Olympus. People will worry. And—” Nico’s eyes flicker tiredly. “ _I_ worry in what other antics you may end up.”

There’s a protest bubbling in Jason’s throat—but then Nico extends a hand. He stares up at Jason expectantly, as though saying, _you won’t like what I do if you say no_.

With a defeated demure, Jason reaches back.

There’s a palpable pause between them. Nico’s hand is colder than the north winds. The flesh of Jason’s palm tingles. Nico isn’t looking—but Jason can hear the halt in Nico’s breath.

In less disastrous circumstances, Jason would admire how nicely Nico’s hand fit in his.

In this particular event—Jason yelps as Nico melts them into the shadows.

*

Traveling through the shadows is exhilarating. Jason can’t tell if he’s breathing through his ears and looking at the earth through his nostrils—or if his skin is burning or if he’s suffering from frostbite—but there’s undoubtedly nothing that compares. Maybe flying—but even the four walls of his room and his ceiling tethers him from ever truly enjoying the sky.

Shadowtraveling has no walls. It’s terrifyingly exhilarating and—

—and quickly over before it truly starts.

They appear at the foot of Mount Olympus—Nico’s hand still so tightly bound over Jason’s. Jason turns to see if Nico is affected by the lacing of their fingers as much as he feels—but Nico’s gaze is upward.

“Oh,” Jason says sadly, his throat prickling, “I guess this is goodbye.”

“No,” Nico says sharply. “We’re going all the way up. I don’t trust you not to follow me again after this disaster.”

“That’s probably fair.”

For some reason, shadowtraveling the second time feels…off. They appear at the foot of the palace in night’s wake—and that feeling from the surface is still with Jason. The air feels a little thinner—though Jason’s never had a problem with it before. He thinks Nico notices his reluctance when he squeezes Nico’s hand a little too hard.

“What’s wrong?” Nico asks.

“Oh,” Jason says—and it comes out breathy for some reason. Breathier than usual. “Nothing, I don’t think.”

There’s a way that Nico stares at him with suspicion—and a tiny frown at the corner of his lip. When he peels his hand away, Jason is disappointed.

They make it through the northward corridors. Nico is quiet and intense—but Jason can also see the intrigue in his eyes—the paintings of several heroes that have already been deemed worthy for Olympus. All the minor gods who accepted immortality after their triumphs, and all of the heroes that chose Elysium instead. For the caution Nico has towards sons of Zeus, sons of Apollo—and all the likes of most of Olympus, save for a handful of demigods—Nico has intrigue for the Olympian tales.

“I’ve never been on this side of the palace,” Nico notes quietly—and for an instant, Jason thinks the other demigod forgets that he’s mad.

“A hall for heroes,” Jason says with a faint smile. “To draw inspiration on their next quest.”

Nico stops thoughtfully in front of a stained-glass painting of one of Olympus’s most famous heroes. He wrinkles his nose.

“It’s charmed to reconstruct every morning,” Jason explains, and he gestures to the painting that outlines Heracles’s Twelve Labors. “My stepmother will throw her shoe at it occasionally. I think she likes the way the glass sounds when it hits the floor.”

“That’s not very family-friendly,” Nico remarks—and Jason laughs. “I wouldn’t be able to stomach the sight of this every morning.”

“Big sandals to fill,” Jason says, and he gestures to Heracles’s feet.

“His feet are the size of your head.”

They keep moving until they make it to Jason’s chambers. The grip around Jason’s fingers is loose—but he’s more surprised that Nico hasn’t relinquished his grip altogether. As they arrive at his doors, Jason’s stomach is heavy and his lungs feel thin—though he’s not sure why.

Nico is unfazed as he looks at the garish door and décor—but then he looks at Jason with the same tepid worry from the entrance of the Underworld.

Jason swallows hard, but it doesn’t feel hard _enough_ for some reason. “Nico, I just—”

“I already told you I’ll be back in the morning,” Nico chides, and his voice is soft—too tired for the fuel of his own anger. “My stepmother—she asked for my company for these passing seasons. I intend to keep that promise. I just want to be around my family for a night.”

Nico looks up, tired and exasperated.

“Surely,” he continues, “that’s a concept that you understand well? I can see how fond Persephone and Apollo are of you. It’s why Hera keeps you close to her nape. It’s not a concept exclusive to Olympus.”

Jason smiles weakly. “They keep me so close in Olympus that I can’t even talk to a boy without making a blunder of myself.”

Nico shifts uncomfortably between his feet and averts his gaze. He curls a hand around the cuff on his bicep. There isn’t a witty remark on his tongue—there usually aren’t. Nico has done what he’s always done since Jason has made any gesture or imply that he’s smitten—he’s locked up.

“What did you intend to do, son of Zeus?” Nico asks. “Standing so willingly in front of the entrance of the Underworld? Did you expect me to come home with you?”

“Well—you kind of did.”

“I _returned_ you,” Nico corrects. “You have no idea what horrors there are on the surface. What monsters there could be. You’re lucky that between Olympus and the entrance all you found was a bumbling bard.”

“I…can fight,” Jason points out, and it comes out in huffs, “but…I’m flattered for your concern.”

Nico rolls his eyes emphatically and points to the ground. “You will _stay_ this time. Please.”

“Okay,” Jason says—and honestly, making Nico angry is the _last_ thing he wants to do again.

“Okay,” Nico repeats—and they drop into a silence, Nico’s eyes slowly meeting him. The quiet between them is palpable. He takes one slow step back, ready to leave. “Well, I’m going to get going.”

“Can…I…say one more thing?”

Nico hesitates, but then he sighs with defeat. “If you must.”

“I…” Gods, Jason doesn’t feel very good. “I…told you I couldn’t help myself when I saw you. You’re right, my stepmother…she keeps me close to her nape. To the point that it’s a running joke. The only time I’ve ever courted _anyone_ was my best friend, Piper, and I had no say in that. My stepmother built the foundation of that courtship and I couldn’t follow through.”

The entire experience had been surreal for Jason. He’s followed Hera like a small pup ever since the age of two, obedient to her word and an echo chamber for her thoughts on family and marriage. He was his father’s son and her champion—and in her words, he would be perfect. The perfect demigod son of the King and Queen of the Heavens.

And—a perfect child deserved a perfect lover. Piper was supposed to be the embodiment of love, as Aphrodite’s daughter.

But being the embodiment of love and being the love that someone seeks out are two different things. Hera fueled every thought of Jason to Piper that could invoke a legendary romance and—it fell flat. It was yet another expectation on Jason’s heart where he wasn’t sure how to get started.

Jason’s not even sure how to describe that to Nico. He could write a whole novel about his friendship with Piper and Hephaestus’s son, Leo, and how Hera meddled. But—just that. They’re just two other demigods who Jason gets to see in passing while he stays holed up in Olympus to be at his stepmother’s beck and call—and it’s certainly not filled with wit and charm the way it is for Nico and Persephone.

“I get the feeling you have expectations of me because of my father and my brother,” Jason says, and suddenly his heart is beating uncomfortably in his chest. Jason notices his palm is sweaty as he wipes a hand over it. “I’ve…never met someone who was so disappointed in my lineage right off the bat. But every blunder—that’s just me. I think somewhere along the way, I decided that I wanted to impress you as me, too. Just me.”

Unfortunately, _just Jason_ would forever involve the rest of Olympus in his affairs. He’s had never had a choice but turn a blind eye to it.

“And you’re right, I don’t know what your life is away from Olympus,” Jason continues, his voice solemn and coming out slower in his ears. “But I’ve enjoyed every moment where I _get_ to know you. I’m sorry—if all of the talk about you and me around Olympus has made it difficult for you. I promise—I’ll try to dispel all of the rumors and hush all of the aurae. Just— _please_ don’t stop coming to Olympus. I—”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together with worry, his stance wavering.

“I like what I’ve learned about you. I like _you,_ ” Jason says quietly, “and I want you to keep enjoying the nice things about Olympus.”

By the time he ends his little speech, Jason is out of his breath. His palms are sweaty and the space between his toes feels weird, too. He wonders if it’s an aftermath of going on the surface—of having _Earth_ dirt between his toes and hearing all the pretty sounds.

“Um,” Jason says slowly, “that’s it.”

He expects for Nico to leave after that, to be ridded of his antics. Instead: “Jason, you don’t look too good.”

What? “Oh—I’m fine, I’m just—I need to sit down—”

He’s surprised when Nico reaches to put a hand to his forehead. Jason would probably advise against it—he’s sweating right now.

“You’re clammy,” Nico observes—and then his eyebrows furrow together, no longer guarded and frustrated at Jason’s unforeseen adventure again. “It’s the change in altitude, isn’t it?”

“I don’t see how that could be a problem,” Jason says, and he shuts his eyes closed, steadying himself against his door. “I’ve never had trouble with this altitude before.”

“You’ve never had a _change_ in altitude.” Nico frowns. “Let’s get you settled back in your room.”

In any other circumstance, Jason would be delighted. “Really, Nico, I’m f…” Okay. No, words hurt. Jason reaches for the handle and runs face first into his door. “Oops.”

Nico’s hand clasps over his. “I can see that. Now let’s go inside.”

Admittedly, Jason’s heart spikes in mild anxiety at the idea of shadowtraveling again. However, Nico guides him into the room with less ferocity than before. Once Jason squeezes his eyes shut, he finds trouble in opening them again. The room spins less if he does that and—“Oof.”

He runs straight into Nico and almost topples. Nico steadies him, a hand on his chest and grip around his fingers tighter. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason says, and he rubs his eyes. Bumping into the other demigod makes the room bobble. “Why did we stop?”

Nico doesn’t speak right away. When he does, he actually sounds embarrassed. “I was taking in the room.”

Jason opens his eyes slowly and looks around to see what could be so odd to the son of Hades. His daybed sits far against the wall, where his windows stretch from the marble floor to the mosaic ceiling. There’s a diorama set up on the other end of his room, filled with all of the monuments that Jason has heard about on his friends’ adventures. All of the places that are dedicated to the twelve Olympian gods.

“You have two beds,” Nico murmurs quietly, and he’s looking specifically at Jason’s main sleeping quarters, where his bedframe is nestled beneath a mosaic dome of clouds like a child’s nursery room.

“Three, actually,” Jason says, and he gestures to the skylight above them, where his hammock nets like a loft. “I like to wake to my brother.”

“Oh,” is Nico’s answer. “So, when you offered your chambers weeks ago…?”

Jason has to search the far corners of his mind to find that memory. It’s far too cloudy now, his thoughts wobbly in his brain—but then he remembers. “I was offering my daybed. It faces the north for Boreas’s winds. I slumber there when Thalia visits.”

“Oh,” Nico says again, and it’s faint.

“Why? What did you think I intended?” Jason says—and then the red bursts in his cheeks. “Oh. No—Nico, I wouldn’t—I’ve never—I. I’ve never.”

He’s not sure who’s redder. Nico has a hard time looking him in the eye now, his cheeks blooming a beautiful hue—all blurry nine of them. He gives Jason’s hand a gentle tug, and gestures towards Jason’s daybed. “Sit down. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

_Sitting down_ quickly turns into _laying down._ Jason learns the room doesn’t spin if his eyes are shut. His head hurts less if it’s sideways. Gods—who knew feeling mortal-y could suck.

He opens his eyes eventually to Nico holding out a cup of tea.

“The herbs in this tea should help with mountain sickness,” Nico explains.

Jason stares at the slightly-green liquid with curiosity. “How do you know about this?”

“Most demigods have to drink it when they arrive,” Nico says, and he stares at Jason with a somber calm. “You’ve just never had this problem before.”

Right. Probably one of the many things Jason never knew since he wasn’t prone to impulsively jumping off a mountain for a boy. He has a hard time exhaling as he tilts his cup.

“Aunt Hestia heated it up.”

“A gem,” Jason mumbles, “I love her.”

He sips the tea while Nico stands across from him, staring patiently. It falls in his stomach like a raindrop to a pond—hot and warm and rippling. Jason doesn’t feel better right away—but the room spins just a little less.

“I didn’t take a son of Hades to be such a healer,” Jason remarks. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually he can prop himself up and keep steady. It’s tea, sure—but Jason’s never been in a position where he’s had to differentiate between herbs. He’s never been sick, either. Apollo usually kissed his forehead better when he fell ill.

Nico looks uncomfortable for some reason. “I dated one.”

“Oh. Right.” And then the topic of Apollo becomes awkward again. Jason stares at his cup of tea carefully and slowly sips it again. Then he lays back down. “Um—are you two doing well then?”

Nico stares at him wryly. “Did you miss the part where Lord Apollo began his breakup playlist?”

“Apollo will sing any playlist so long as he gets to sing,” Jason says. “The birthday candles on my cake are usually melted by the time he finishes warbling for me.”

At that, Nico looks ready to laugh. Instead, he reaches to pour more tea in Jason’s cup—which Jason immediately dismisses.

“Please,” Jason says, and he rubs his forehead dizzily. “I don’t think I could stomach anymore.”

“Okay,” Nico settles on softly. “Lay down then.”

Jason follows doctor’s orders, and the hot tea swishes in his stomach. He lets out a thin sigh—and then a thought occurs to him. He almost knocks Nico out sitting back up. And almost pukes. “You should get back to Hazel and Zagreus. I’m sure they’ll worry—you were about to get going.”

Nico stares at him with one eyebrow arched in the sky. “You finally get me in your rooms, Jason, and the first thing you want me to do is leave?”

There’s a way that he says Jason’s name that feels more enchanted than _son of Zeus._ Jason’s not sure why he clings on to it so much. He’s woozy.

And…no. Jason would love it if Nico stayed, but he’s suffering the consequences of trying to bring Nico back the first time. Jason’s eyebrows wrinkle together with quiet dismay—which sends the pounding right behind his forehead. “I just—I’d rather not upset you again.”

Nico is so quiet that Jason has to open an eye to make sure the other demigod is still there. He stares back at Jason with the same tame worry.

“You’ll upset me more if you try to do anything stupid in this state,” Nico chastises—and then he gently pushes a hand against Jason’s chest. “Now lay back down. I’ll stay until you feel better.”

*

Persephone comes to visit while Jason is slumbering. As though Nico didn’t have enough to deal with tonight. She stares at her brother, strewn across the daybed while Nico has busied himself staring about the room—at the mosaic ceiling, at the marble columns, at the long windows. Something about it doesn’t seem right to him.

“Well, well, well,” she says, mightily smug. “Here I thought you’d be sulking in the gardens.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “I don’t sulk. _You_ sulk.”

“Thank you,” she says, and she dabs the corners of her eyes with large flower petals, where the miserable tears have fallen ever since she left for the spring. “Did you two have a wonderful time at the hippodrome? Did my sweet stepdaughter win? Have I interrupted something promiscuous?”

Pink flushes in Nico’s face—and he’s brought back to Jason’s bashful sputterings from before. _No, I haven’t. I’ve never._

“If you’re that curious,” Nico says wryly, “your dear brother jumped off Mount Olympus and followed me to the Underworld.”

He’s not sure how to gauge her reaction. After all—for all that it’s been hammered into his head that Jason doesn’t leave Olympus, Apollo seemed more focused on a performance than dote on his _babiest_ brother.

She gasps, her hand flying to her rose-colored lips. “He gets that from me.”

“The resemblance is uncanny, stepmother.”

“He’s just _adorable_ , isn’t he?” she gushes.

Nico has certainly used that word once already tonight. He tilts his head carefully, to match the horizontal line graced upon Jason’s lip. Under the moonlight, Jason’s face looks softer. Or—maybe it’s always looked soft. He doesn’t think Adonis quite captured the sweetness that came with Jason’s broad shoulders and bold frame.

_That_ Adonis looks more like an arrogantly beautiful son of Zeus—with hair too blond, eyes too blue, face too sculpted. Nico’s gotten his fair share of _that_ sobbing break up songs in his ears tonight.

It didn’t quite capture…

_Me_ , he hears in Jason’s voice, and Nico curls a hand over his bicep.

“Would you like my advice?” Persephone sings, because there obviously isn’t anything else in Olympus that could entertain her.

Nico bites back the urge to roll his eyes. “I should let it happen, Stepmother?”

Let his heart skip a beat every time Jason smiled? Grin when Jason grins? Fancy the thought of wherever else Jason planned to take him where the flowers didn’t wilt, and the birds didn’t squawk at him for reeking of death? Zagreus is right about one thing—Olympus is tiring.

“Take him full force,” Persephone says. “Offer him all the seeds.”

Nico chokes. “I _beg your pardon_ , stepmother?”

“ _What_?” Persephone asks, feigning an innocence like she does around the kitchen table when she grabs the last chicken leg. “It’s the biggest regret of my marriage. Communication is _hard._ ”

“Those are two very different ideals, stepmother.” Nico inches his fingers beneath his headpiece and rubs his temples. “And father more or less said he just _let it happen._ ”

This time, his stepmother looks offended. “You saw him tonight? Without _me_?”

“You have five more months, stepmother.”

“I could sneak out if I wanted to!”

“I’m sure the people would love the famine that would ensue.”

They both turn their hands in tandem as they hear a sound from the daybed. Jason stirs ever so softly in his sleep—and then the air is filled with snores.

Before Persephone gets too riled up, she assesses him. “Altitude sickness?”

“No one has ever warned him, I’m afraid.” Nico frowns worriedly at the half empty tea kettle sitting on the side table. Persephone and Hazel had chided him plenty before his arrival. Hazel admitted she was prone to nausea—despite how she thrived in chariot races.

“No one has ever _had_ to.” Persephone sighs tiredly, her eyes mimicking the wariness of Nico’s own irises. “Very well then.”

She waves her hand in a smooth motion, and the same herbs appear at her palm.

Persephone opens her mouth to instruct. “Have Auntie Hestia—”

“Heat the roots for tea,” Nico finishes for her. “I know.”

Her eyes twinkle—though not with the usual mischief that shimmers so vibrantly in Zagreus’s eyes. It’s waned by her worry as a big sister. “That healer was good for you.”

“Good for knowledge,” Nico corrects. Not good for his heart.

“Glad that you got _something_ out of it,” Persephone says, and she waves her hand dismissively.

Another thought occurs to Nico as she maneuvers towards the doors. “What were you doing down this corridor? The greenhouse is on the opposite side of the palace.”

Persephone rolls her eyes. “To see if the courting has _worked,_ of course. _Has_ it?”

“I hardly call jumping down a mountain, nearly getting killed, and passing out from illness _working_ , stepmother,” Nico reasons. He rolls his eyes, though he’s delicate with the roots between his fingers.

As always, she only shrugs. “It’s certainly not the _Olympian_ approach, no. But if you want my advice—”

“I’m quite done with advice tonight, stepmother.”

“Fine,” she says, and she raises her nose to the air. But her voice wanes, filled with worry only a big sister could muster. It’s startlingly sweet, for all of the arrogance that Nico has learned to associate with Olympians and their kind. “Take care of my brother, Nico.”

“I intend to.” Nico reassures.

She smiles at him, evidently satisfied with his answer as she leaves.

The warmth of her tone is almost surprising. Human, if the word can even be applied to a goddess. By the weight of her words, he doesn’t think she means just for the night. Even Apollo—though obnoxious and overtly affectionate by the sun’s nature, made a diligent effort in telling Nico to take care of Jason before he left to his own self-centered musings.

It's quite different from the many heroes painted down the halls outside Jason’s chambers. A different brand altogether, than what Nico is used to—or the horrors he’s heard parroted over the years.

And the curiosity bites at Nico’s mind. What _would_ Jason have done, if invited into the Underworld?

Not even Jason knew, apparently—so earnest in this fact and quick to bend unlike other stubborn heroes or sons of Zeus or sons of Apollo.

And—something nags him in his chest. Nico doesn’t like it.

Let it happen, his dad advised.

Go in full force, his stepmother foolishly told him.

“What do you intend to do with me if I let this happen, Jason?” Nico whispers, his voice cautiously creeping so his heart won’t notice. “Do you intend to leave me? Will you take my hand?”

“Mmph,” Jason suddenly says—startling Nico altogether. He sits abruptly on the touch and brushes a hand to his forehead. Then he looks up beneath the moonlight, his eyes blending with the glitter of stars. He blinks blearily.

All of the silly advice from his parents suddenly means nothing. Nico goes with his first instinct, which is to sidle beside Jason to check his forehead again. “How are you feeling?”

“A little less woozy,” Jason mumbles—and those eyes slowly focus on Nico himself. A weak smile curls against his lips. “You stayed.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Nico explains—and then he reaches for the cold tea. “It’s my fault you went down there.”

“Not your fault,” Jason mumbles, and he rubs his forehead. “Will you stay the night?”

Nico hesitates to answer. His lips are pursed together as he pours more tea for Jason to sip, and he tries to conjure an answer in his mind between his two parents for the son of Zeus. They lap back and forth in his head. Let it happen, go full force.

_Forget about Olympians_ , Zagreus nags in his head—and Nico wouldn’t be surprised if it _was_ his brother.

“Um,” Jason mumbles, and he sips on the remainder of tea. “I mean that as innocently as possible.”

Funnily enough, Nico actually believes Jason. He bites the inside of his mouth, a faint smile twitching at his lips. “Someone probably _should_ watch you.”

“I might do something stupid again.”

“I did watch you run into a door.”

Jason laughs a quiet little hiccup over his tea—utterly inelegant for a son of with his lineage. “It happens.”

“My concern only grows.”

“If it’s over me, then I don’t mind.” Jason pauses for a moment, staring at his tea with curiosity. “I said that aloud again, I didn’t I?”

“It happens,” Nico mimics, and before he knows it, the corner of his lip is lifting with a smile. If he relaxes enough, he realizes he’s starting to like these little ramblings. The anger and frustration from earlier weighs on his heart a little less, though he’s not sure why.

“Will you stay the night?” Jason asks again, quiet and hopeful. “I was serious. I’d love to know you better.”

Nico’s heart flutters as it did in the hallway. He shifts between his feet, with the kettle between his fingers. “One night won’t hurt.”

He tries really hard to ignore the way his heart skips a beat as Jason lights up.


End file.
